


are ghosts real or not check the box yes or no and you cant say maybe it has to be yes or no

by painting



Series: ghost up ghost out [1]
Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-10 14:12:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12300780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/painting/pseuds/painting
Summary: A quick nothing-story about Charlie the obsessive-compulsive people person and Elijah the nervous psychic and the big bad damp dark haunted basement.





	1. the basement

**Author's Note:**

> if you were directed to this story from anywhere other than my sneeze blog then just know that i wrote it with the intention of showing it to people who look at my sneeze blog
> 
> (i have a sneezing fetish but you should read this story anyway)

“Watch your head!” Charlie says, throwing his head back and tapping the weird part of the staircase where the wall morphs into the ceiling. Elijah is nearly a head taller than him – it was one of the first things Charlie noticed when they were first introduced to each other – and judging from the way Elijah’s footsteps stumble behind him, Charlie guesses that he was a few seconds too late.

“ _Jesus!_ ”

Charlie can’t help the chuckle that bubbles up out of him. Elijah sounds so startled. “It get you?” he asks.

“Almost,” Elijah says, almost grumbling as the two of them reach the bottom of the staircase and Charlie reaches into his pocket for his keys.

“Sorry,” he says half-heartedly.

“Don’t be. Not your fault I’m tall,” Elijah says. He shifts his weight, gangly and slouching.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Charlie says, finally locating the key he needs. He pushes it into the lock and turns it counter-clockwise, trying not to think about how his hand is going to smell like gross metal until he washes it at least twice. “You’re not that tall.”

“Being tall is a good thing?” Elijah asks.

“Supposed to be. Watch your head,” Charlie says again, not sure exactly if the basement doorway is low enough to warrant a warning, but he wants to cover his tracks just in case. When he turns around to see at least half a foot of space above the highest part of Elijah’s dark, curly hair, he grins sheepishly.

“How tall did you think I was…?” Elijah asks, reaching up to tap the doorframe with the tips of his fingers.

Charlie shrugs. “I dunno. Eight foot eleven? Nine?”

Elijah rolls his eyes and steps inside, scanning the woodsy, carpeted space carefully. It looks like nobody has been down here for years, and the air is still and musty.

“You gonna be okay down here?” Charlie asks as he tests a light switch. The power’s cut, but it’s still dusk so the golden light coming in from the tiny, west-facing windows should be enough to go off of until they need to break out the flashlights.

“What do you mean?” Elijah asks. He’s still scanning.

“Oh, uh,” Charlie says, suddenly self conscious, running his finger along a splintered, painted book case and unintentionally coating it with dust. “Corrine said you had asthma, and this place hasn’t really been—”

“Oh, no, no, no,” Elijah interrupts, his voice so quick that he almost stammers. “I’ll be fine. Corrine has known me forever and I think she remembers it being shitty when I was like, twelve. A dusty basement is no match for my strong adult bronchial tubes.” He makes a fist and raises a little before letting it fall, like he was about to pound on his chest and changed his mind halfway through. Good thing, Charlie thinks. Elijah’s kind of scrawny so it would look ridiculous.

“But you’ll tell me if you feel, like…” Charlie gestures vaguely, inexperienced with asthma and generally at a loss for words. This, as usual, doesn’t stop him from talking. “Y’know. Because Corrine would straight _up_ murder me if you had an asthma attack trying to exorcise demons or whatever you say you do that she doesn’t believe in.”

Charlie beckons Elijah closer, deeper into the half-finished basement so they can start inspecting the closet. “I don’t exorcise de—I— um— What do you think I… Can… _do_ , exactly? Sorry. God, sorry, oh my god, dude, that sounded really weird and stupid, I don’t know, I—”

“Oh my god, calm down.” Charlie has a hand on Elijah’s shoulder, just for a second as he tries to steady him. Touching people’s shoulders tends to make people either relax or tense up, and no matter how many times he does it, Chaarlie can never predict which one it’s going to be.

Thankfully, Elijah relaxes.

“I thought that maybe, you could, like – this is what Corrine said – you could, like, sense, um…” Charlie bites the side of his bottom lip. He’s not sure if he’s trying not to laugh because he finds this whole thing absurd, or because he’s having a reaction to how uncomfortable he feels alone in a basement talking to some guy he’s only met twice through a mutual friend-slash-acquaintance about whether or not he’s psychic. “Like, Corrine says you’re always talking about ghosts…”

“Yeah, you said you thought there was a ghost down here,” Elijah says, like that’s a normal observation to make about the abandoned basement of an abandoned one-story house near the dead end of a quiet street in the middle of town.

Well, actually, when you put it that way…!

“There totally is,” Charlie says, deciding that he’s done playing the skeptic now that he’s finally alone with another _believer_ (god, it really sucks to call himself that, to use that word, but in all honestly he can’t think of a better word to use), another person who doesn’t act all faked out and hokey when he mentions his great-aunt’s basement being haunted. Because it totally is. He knows it.

Elijah nods and he looks super sincere, like he’s urging Charlie to continue and Charlie feels refreshed and so, so fond. He responds to Elijah’s nodding by uselessly trying to turn on the light in the closet, forgetting the power’s been shut off for a long long time, then pulling out his flashlight instead.

“I had this relative,” he says, giving the closet a once-over with his flashlight and then backing up to do the same thing with the inside of the splintering chest on the opposite wall. The walls of this place are white and bleak and terribly,  _terribly_ cracked. The drywall or plaster or whatever it is probably should have been replaced at least a decade before everyone moved out. Slowly, Elijah shadows him, appearing next to Charlie as he sticks his head into the closet, too. “Past tense. Like, she’s dead now—”

“Oh, I’m sorry—” Elijah starts, and there’s that sincerity again and Charlie remembers Corrine telling him that Elijah was sweet.

“No, it’s okay.” Charlie smiles and hopes it doesn’t look as blank as it feels. “Like, she died a million years ago and I didn’t even really know her. But this was her house, and then her daughter and her family moved in, right? And they had two kids, one of them – Allison – is my age so I would hang out here sometimes. And it always felt…” He doesn’t want to say haunted and sound like a poser or a cliché, so he hesitates, but he can’t think of a better word and a couple of moments have gone by and Elijah is surprisingly patient so he just goes for it. “Haun—”

“Haunted,” Elijah finishes for him. Maybe not so patient after all. His face changes instantly. “Sorry, I interrupted!”

“It’s okay, I was just struggling for a long time to think of the word haunted.”

Elijah smiles and his shoulders shake a little. It’s contagious and Charlie laughs too.

“Hang on a second, check this out, c’mere,” Charlie says. He holds up a little notebook, pulled fresh out of what Charlie has just now deemed The Dustiest Drawer in the World, and Elijah walks over to get a closer look. “Does this feel haunted to you?”

“You’re really comfortable with the word haunted now!” Elijah says. He’s standing close enough for Charlie to feel his body heat, and he makes an effort to keep himself from shifting his position so Elijah can’t tell that he’s become self-conscious.

“Yeah, I’ve changed a lot,” Charlie says. He rubs a little most dust off of the cover with the hand that isn’t covered in metal-key-smell, and feels a little comforted by the fact that now his hands are at least symmetrically contaminated. “So does it?”

“Does it feel haunted to you?” Elijah asks.

Charlie holds the book up closer to his face to consider this, but he doesn’t open it yet. “I don’t know. I don’t think so,” he says. “But I think you might be better at knowing when something is…”

He falters when he feels a draft between them, and turns to see that Elijah has abruptly twisted the upper half of his body to the side.

“ _HehH’GYTSHH’ue!_ ” Uh oh. “ _EhGHTSHh’YEW!_ ”

Charlie whips the book to the side. “Bless you. Bless you! Is that the asthma…?”

Elijah shakes his head. “It’s just dusty. Do you know how asthma works?”

Charlie doesn’t, not really, but he’s not going to admit to it just now. “Are you going to thank me for being super extra polite and blessing each sneeze?”

“No,” Elijah says, and Charlie smiles again because he realizes that he thinks Elijah is funny. Elijah gasps and turns away again. “ _Hh’HUH… hh’EHTCH’UE!_ ”

Elijah looks almost forlorn coming out of that one, so Charlie tries the shoulder thing again. “Bless you anyway,” he says.

“ _Thank_ you,” Elijah says. “Sorry. Um. Do you mind if I take a look at the, uh…”

“Yeah! Yeah, here,” Charlie hands the notebook over and wonders how the inside of a dresser drawer became so grimy. “You feel anything?”

“I feel… Oh, uh.” Elijah puts his forearm in front of his face and ducks toward his shoulder. “ _EhtCHZSHHuh!_ Oh my _god_ , excuse me, I’m so sorry. No, I don’t feel any, uh, anything.” He hands the notebook back to Charlie, who puts it in his back pocket because, hey, free totally-not-haunted notebook. Right on. “I don’t think you ever finished telling me about this place.”

“Yes,” Charlie agrees. He goes back to trying to inspect the rest of the drawers, but they seem mostly empty. “So, okay, my aunt and uncle moved out of here, obviously.” He hadn’t bothered showing Elijah the front of the house or the upstairs, just the weird back way into the basement, but he’s sure that it looks just about the same – albeit slightly less damp – in the rest of the house. “But now Allison’s having some kind of breakdown.”

“A breakdown,” Elijah repeats. Charlie crouches to inspect the bottom drawers, and Elijah looks back and forth before following suit.

“Yeah, not like, one with hallucinations or anything, she’s just really sad. I think she’s depressed,” Charlie explains.

“That sucks,” Elijah says.

“Yeah. So she’s been calling me a lot lately, I don’t know if something happened or whatever, I don’t… I don’t know. But she just wants to talk about her grandmother – my great aunt Lily. Like she keeps saying that I have to come back here and whatever – like, here to this house – she lives kind of far away now – and tell her if I see Lily hanging around. She said that she used to actually _see_ her, not just feel her. Do you know what I mean? We used to talk about it feeling super haunted, especially in the basement, so I don’t know, when I heard Corrine talk about you and the ghost thing… y’know? Do you know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Elijah says.

“I’m, like, not a skeptic. I think this stuff is real,” Charlie says, and Elijah nods again and it makes Charlie feel so relieved to not have to play around like he believes in all of it as a joke. Unless Elijah himself was sent by Corrine as some kind of prank against Charlie and his Haunted Basement. God, that’d be mean of her, wouldn’t it? She doesn’t seem the type to do something like that. “You do too, don’t you?”

“Yeah, this place is definitely haunted,” Elijah says, totally straight-faced, like he’s dealt with this kind of thing a hundred times before (maybe he has), and Charlie laughs.

He doesn’t mean to. “I _swear_ I’m not laughing at what you just said,” he promises. “I’m just so happy to hear someone say that and actually mean it. Like I’m not crazy.”

Elijah opens the last drawer, peers inside, then shuts it slowly. He’s sniffling a little. “I think I’d rather be Crazy Elijah than Quiet Elijah,” he discloses with a shrug. “I think it feels less lonely, even if people don’t believe me. Sometimes I’m able to find somebody who does.”

“I do!” Charlie says. He stands up and offers a hand to Elijah.

“Yeah, I know you do.” Elijah takes his hand. “That’s why I’m here. You also just said so, like, a few seconds ago.”

Charlie tries not to focus on the way their knees made indents in the dirty-white carpet as he shines his phone-flashlight down upon it. “So, do you actually see the ghosts?”

“Like Allison?” Elijah asks. “S-someti- _imes_ … _hih’EHHGHsh!_ Jesus. Sorry. Yeah sometimes.”

“Bless you. Okay. Come look at this next,” Charlie says, heading into the spare bedroom.

Elijah follows. Charlie’s surprised to see that the bed’s still there – a twin, with a white and pastel quilt on top instead of a comforter – and a couple of rugs rolled up and stacked against the wall. Charlie used to sleep here on the nights that he and Allison stayed up too late for it to make sense for his parents to come and pick him up, and it always felt creepiest late at night.

“I promise this is the last thing I’ll make you look at,” Charlie says.

“It’s fine, I…” Elijah winces and twists away again. “ _Hh’Uh’GYSHHUE!_ I like stufflikethis _htCHZHHYEW!_ ”

“Ooh, the dust is really getting to you, huh?” Charlie says. He wishes he had a tissue or a napkin or something to hand over, but all he has are the empty pages in his brand new (old) notebook, and he has a feeling that they wouldn’t be much help.

“You… _huhEHGYSHuh!_ You didn’t say bless you that time.” Elijah sniffles, hard and fast, against the cuff of his sleeve.

Charlie plays along. “Bless you!”

“Thanks. God, yeah, I think it is. Sorry. It’s not usually this bad.”

“Does your, like… psychic… ghost… power…”

“You don’t have to call it that.”

“Yeah but I want to. It’s cool,” Charlie says, noticing the way Elijah’s starting to tense up. “Does it get, like, messed up when you’re stressed or sick or anything? Or does it stay the same?” God, he really has a million questions about it. He wants to know everything. But he doesn’t want Elijah to feel like he’s under a microscope, and this is the easiest, most relevant place to start.

Elijah still looks tense, but now he also looks like he’s thinking about the question. He sniffles again. “Sometimes…” he says slowly. “Sometimes when I have the flu, I’ll get a ghost telling me that I have the flu.”

“No way,” Charlie says.

“Yeah, like, right, like, you’d think it was just my body feeling sick and knowing I was sick and communicating to me that way, I know. It’s kind of funny, but it’s different because it – Oh my god.”

Elijah’s tone changes so fast that Charlie feels startled on the inside, like he might have had some kind of episode and totally missed a part of whatever Elijah just said. “What?” he asks.

“There is one here,” Elijah says. “There’s a ghost in this room – you were right.” He doesn’t sound especially distressed, or even particularly excited, but there’s this lilt in his voice that Charlie really likes and can’t quite place.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for people who like some description while reading an original fic, i'll describe my OCs a little bit for you.
> 
> elijah: bad posture
> 
> charlie: good posture


	2. the bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in this one they go to a bar and have a chat. look

It was actually Elijah’s idea to go to the bar. Corrine and this guy David (who Charlie has heard a lot about but never met) and maybe some other people Elijah knows are going to be there, and he wants to get some fresh air and probably tell them all about the ghost in the basement. Charlie had said he was down. Not like he was doing anything else. 

So Charlie’s driving them there, because Elijah took the bus or walked or something and Charlie doesn’t even know if he drives in the first place, and even if he did he might be sneezing too much right now to do it safely. He’s started coughing a little, too, which kind of freaks Charlie out because _what if that’s the asthma_ but Elijah already said he was fine so Charlie trusts him and lets it go because he doesn’t want to be annoying. Whatever. He’s probably okay.

“You can pick the music. Are you a music person?” Charlie asks as they get buckled in. His car isn’t new, but it’s mostly clean and so he rolls the windows down to air the musty smell out of their hair and clothes.

Elijah makes a face. “Corrine says I have bad taste.”

Charlie laughs and says, “Why? What? What do you listen to?”

“You can pick the music. Anything’s fine,” Elijah evades. He looks a little uncomfortable so Charlie drops it and turns on the radio. “You’ve been to this place before, right? You know how to get there?”

Jeez, Elijah sounds awful, his voice hoarse and consonants soft around the edges. He clears his throat and Charlie says, “Yeah! Yeah, I’ve never actually gone in, but I know it.”

“It’s kind of loud inside,” Elijah warns. It makes Charlie want to reach for the volume knob and turn the car’s music down, impulsively assuming that the warning means Elijah himself might be sensitive to noise even if he might not be, and besides, it’s quiet enough right now for Charlie to hear Elijah’s scratchy voice loud and clear. “We usually go to the patio though. It’s nice.”

“That’s cool,” Charlie nods. A breeze fills the car as he turns onto a main road (State Street) and speeds up. It’s been colder outside, which is typical for the changing season, obviously, but so much colder after dark than it is during the day, and Charlie peripherally sees Elijah rolling down his sleeves. “You cold?”

“Yeah, check it out,” Elijah says, but it doesn’t sound like he’s complaining. He sniffles and holds out his left arm. “Goosebumps.”

Without thinking, Charlie runs his fingers along the underside of Elijah’s forearm (just the middle three and not the thumb or pinkie, which always get left out and it drives him crazy that _every_ finger isn’t getting to touch the same surface, but it’d be so weird to flat-palm an acquaintance’s forearm so he doesn’t freaking do it). “Show off.”

“Yeah, sorry. I bet your arms are totally smooth under there. No bumps at all. Not even a freckle.”

“I’d show you but my smooth arms are busy driving right now.”

“ _Huh’hh’EHTSCH’ue!_ That’s okay. _Hp’GTSHHuh!_ ” Elijah snatches his forearm back to sneeze against his wrist, and his seatbelt makes a little _zwrr!_ sound each time it gets jostled as he pitches forward.

“Oh!” Charlie feels like an idiot, but figures better late than never. “I have a really cool collection of—”

“Really cool collection,” Elijah repeats, a smile peeking out behind the cuff of his sleeve.

“Be quiet, Elijah, please, I’m helping you. I have a really cool collection of fast food napkins in the glove compartment that you’re welcome to use as long as you promise to replace the ones you take.”

“God,” Elijah says, sounding relieved as he pops open the little door and snatches a few of them instantly. “How will I ever repay you?”

“By replacing the ones you take,” Charlie says. “I just said.”

“Yeah, I guess you did,” Elijah says, his voice steady as he folds one over his nose and turns away toward the window. “Sorry, I have to, uh…”

“It’s fine,” Charlie says. He wishes his voice could roll its eyes. “I’ve heard people blow their noses before. It’s not that exciting.”

Elijah does blow his nose, as promised, but it sounds kind of wimpy and not all that helpful because he’s still sniffling afterward. Charlie’s no critic though, not in this realm, at least, so he doesn’t say anything about that.

It’s not long before he rounds the corner of the street the bar is on, and it even has a little parking lot so Charlie doesn’t have to park on the curb. It’s a Thursday night so it’s not that crowded, but the venue is small and the patio is smaller, crowded with plants and hanging lights.

“Corrine is going to see us before we see her,” Elijah says as they approach the place from the back, stepping up onto the brick-floor patio. He was right, it isn’t too loud here. Not much louder than it was in the car, in fact, albeit the addition of buzzing voices in the background.

Elijah’s right, of course. Corrine sees them right away and she rushes over.

“Elijah, honey, oh no,” is the first thing she says, and God, Charlie forgot how beautiful she was. She might be one of the prettiest women he’s ever seen in real life. He told her this when he first met her, and then she told him she was a lesbian, and he said, Oh Cool! Right On, I’m Bi, and then he realized that she thought he was hitting on her and he had to explain himself and she laughed at him and god she’s beautiful. “Your cold got worse!”

“You’re sick?” Charlie asks.

“Hi, Charlie!” Corrine pulls him in for a hug, and Charlie squeezes back and smells her shampoo.

“I’m sick?” Elijah echoes.

“Hi Corrine,” Charlie says.

“Yeah,” Corrine says over Charlie’s shoulder, then pulls away. He tries not to pat her on the back with his left hand right hand left hand right hand as she does so, because she isn’t a human drum. “You said you had a sore throat this morning. But look at you now!”

Corrine is brilliant. She’d only had her eyes on Elijah for a few seconds before making that deduction. Or maybe she just knows him really well.

“Charlie’s great aunt’s basement has a ghost in it,” is what Elijah has to offer as a reply as Corrine leads him and Charlie back to her table. “And a ton of dust. I think some of the furniture there was actually made out of dust.”

Corrine smiles and reaches up to flip his bangs, which are hanging into his eyes just a little. “Your eyes are okay though. You probably just have a cold,” Corrine says, then turns to Charlie. “Oh my god, _sorry_ , I know I sound like a mom. Not flattering. Elijah’s just kind of stupid and has no idea what’s going on with his body so I have to tell him.”

“I’m actually really smart and Corrine is lying to make me look bad in front of you because you’re the only other person we know who will talk to me about ghosts and isn’t deranged,” Elijah says.

“Here, come sit down!” Corrine ushers them both to this big wooden table that already has a guy sitting at it, and Charlie assumes it’s David at the table and not some stranger. “David, this is Charlie!”

David grins and leans over the table to shake Charlie’s hand. Fuck. Charlie grabs it and squeezes and smiles back and shakes once. He really wanted to wash his hands after contaminating them with _everything_ in that goddamn basement, but if he tries that now then he’ll look like an asshole for trying to wash off another guy’s hand-germs, probably.

The table is round and not very smooth, and Charlie’s chair doesn’t have a back on it so he has to lean forward on his elbows even though it’s a little rude. He’s sitting across from David, with Corrine to his left and Elijah on his right. David punches Elijah like a jock to say hello, and Elijah melodramatically falls down, splayed over the table.

“What’re you drinking?” David asks.

“Uhh. W _hiss_ -key,” Elijah breathes. “American. Not Irish. No wait. Gin and tonic. No wait. Apple cider. Do they serve that one here? No wait—”

“I’ll surprise you,” David decides. “New guy, how about you? What’s your drink?”

“He’s not New Guy anymore,” Elijah says loudly, his voice muffled because he’s speaking into his crossed arms. He sits up and sounds a lot clearer. “We’ve been hanging out.”

Charlie knows it sounds lame to tell a new group of people that he doesn’t drink, but he says it anyway. “I don’t really drink.” No one reacts, which is a good sign. “Maybe something hot, though, if they have it.”

“Comin’ up,” David says, headed inside with a grin. Charlie’s been around the block enough to know that bars like this – the ones that serve appetizers and not just beer and liquor – tend to offer a few interesting non-alcoholic cocktails in addition to sodas, and he’s usually comfortable sipping on something watery until his friends sober up enough to make it home or decide to volunteer him as the designated driver. But he doesn’t mind much.

David sets a brass-colored mug down in front of him when he returns moments later, and a dark blue stained glass in front of Elijah, who barely has enough breath to thank him before he’s buried in his forearm, sneezing once more.

“ _Eh’NGTCH’yew!_ ”

“Bless you!”

“Bless you, Elijah!”

Both Corrine and David are quick about it, but Charlie stays quiet this time because he figures he’s all blessed out, so Elijah’s closer friends can handle it from here.

“ _Eh’NGTCH’UH!_ ”

“Bless you,” Charlie says instantly because apparently he’s greedy and couldn’t have stopped himself if he tried.

“Thanks Charles,” Elijah says like it’s an inside joke, either singling him out as a new friend or making a playful jab at Corrine and David (probably both), and Charlie laughs because he doesn’t think anyone’s used that name on him in years. He’s just been caught off guard, but he doesn’t have the time to explain himself. Elijah looks at his little brass mug. “What is that?”

Charlie looks at David for an answer, but all David does is drink from his beer and shrug, so Charlie takes a sip.

“It’s apple cider,” he announces. “Do you want to try it?”

Elijah seems to consider the offer, his eyes twinkling as he squints upward, and then he holds his hands up. “No way. Against the rules. I think I’m getting sick, so if I drink from your cup then you could get sick.”

“So then we’ll both be sick,” Charlie says. For all of his quirks about sterility, he’s never cared much about _those kinds_ of germs. “Big deal.”

He slides his cup over, and Elijah trades with him. “You try mine then. I haven’t taken a drink from it yet so it’s not contaminated.”

“Didn’t you guys just meet?” David asks before turning towards Corrine. “They just met, right?”

“Yeah, and they’re already sharing drinks like – almost like they’re supposed to! I knew they’d hit it off,” Corrine says.

“No, we’ve talked a couple times at parties,” Elijah corrects. He looks really good holding the warm mug with both hands, steam curling up in front of his face. “This tastes awesome. Oh my god, my throat. Maybe we shouldn’t trade back.”

Charlie tries Elijah’s drink, some kind of dark liquor that he can’t identify and doesn’t want to, because it tastes really _really_ good. He hums in approval and slides it back. “What do you mean, you knew?” he asks Corrine.

“Yeah, I knew because you guys both text exactly the same. I bet if you showed me your messaging thread I wouldn’t be able to tell who’s who.”

Charlie doesn’t know what to say to that, so he says, “I don’t know what to say to that.” He doesn’t bring up the ghosts thing.

Next to him, Elijah takes a sip of his own drink and starts to cough. “That is _so strong_ ,” he says. He coughs again, addressing David. “Is this like, straight cough medicine?”

“It’s not doing a very good job, if it is,” Corrine says.

“It’s just scotch and soda!” David reveals. He’s laughing a little. “Oh my god, are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m just so sick now,” Elijah answers, but he’s not coughing anymore and he takes another sip, looking unfazed. “Oh, scotch is so good. Thanks David.”

“Enough hoarding my drink, then,” Charlie complains, reaching over to grab his mug and brushing Elijah’s knuckles a bit in the process. They’re a little warm (because he just let go of a warm mug, Charlie guesses). “I’m trying to catch your cold.”

“Me too,” Elijah says.

He seems so much less tense here than he did back at Aunt Lily’s, his skinny shoulders relaxed and his face less pinched. Charlie doesn’t know if it’s because he’s around friends now, familiarity and comfort unravelling the superficial anxiety that sometimes comes with spending time with a new person, or if he’d been genuinely uncomfortable hanging out in a damp basement that was inhabited a ghost that he was very likely to see. 

Like most things Charlie wonders, he assumes that it’s probably a mixture of both.

As the conversation continues and meshes and melds and transforms across the table, topics getting introduced and rearranged, Charlie finds himself relaxing too. Corrine has always been easy to talk to, and David is quick to laugh at Charlie’s jokes, which is something that always warms him up to a person quickly. It’s only forty-five minutes later when David is on his third beer and telling Charlie that they should play cards sometime when Charlie notices that Elijah’s looking really zoned out.

Not zoned out as in spacey and in another world, oblivious and phased. His eyes aren’t cloudy or unfocused, and he’s definitely present enough to notice that his nose is running because he’s been going through napkins fast. But something’s definitely different.

When Corrine and David are distracted by their own conversation about that indoor town in Alaska – Charlie thinks he knows the one – Charlie palms Elijah’s shoulder and asks, “Everything okay?”

Elijah jumps a little, which Charlie wasn’t expecting. He sort of does seem like the type to get startled easily, but Charlie’s been close to him all evening and seen no evidence of such a trait.

“Sorry,” Charlie says right away.

“What? No, it’s fine. I’m fine,” Elijah says. “I feel kind of tired all of a sudden. Uh! God. That sounded ominous. I don’t mean it like that. I think it might just be because I’m…”

“Coming down with something?” Charlie asks.

“Or having an allergic reaction, or I don’t know. Sometimes Corrine is wrong,” Elijah says. “She seems really assertive but she doesn’t always know. She thinks ghosts are fake, which obviously isn’t true. I mean – obvious to me.” He smiles and looks a little self-conscious, not like he’d been acting earlier. “But that’s not, um…”

“Yeah?” Charlie prompts.

“Hmm,” Elijah says. He shifts so he’s facing less of David and more of Charlie. “I think… we should go back to Lillian’s.” 

“Lillian…” Elijah repeats, slowly, like he’s searching the name for any meaning it could possibly have. “Oh, yeah, Aunt Lily. Holy shit, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I didn’t get ‘Lily’ from ‘Lillian’ right away.”

“It’s okay.”

“Did she…” God, this is going to sound stupid. “Did she _tell_ you… to… call her Lillian?”

Elijah smiles and Jesus God Jesus Christ it’s so bright and earnest and reassuring that Charlie wants to hug him, like he’s been through this a million times before and could sense Charlie’s discomfort and it makes him feel better instantly. “No, she didn’t talk to me,” he says. “I just don’t feel like I know her well enough to use the Lily nickname.”

“Polite of you,” Charlie says.

“Y-yeah – _HuhNGTSSch!_ ”

“Bless you. Polite of me.”

“Oh my god,” Elijah says, laughing when he emerges from the depths of his inner elbow. “You’re funny. You can’t—”

“No, it was just good timing.”

“—You can’t just, like, be so funny at me when I’m trying to look at ghosts, Charlie, it’s so distracting.”

For the first time since meeting him, Charlie cannot tell if Elijah is serious.

But he doesn’t want Elijah to know that.

“I think I want to go back tonight,” Elijah continues.

“ _That_ is ominous. It sounds like something from a Halloween movie,” Charlie says.

“It’s almost Halloween,” Elijah argues.

“All the more reason to look in a creepy basement for the second time in a single day,” Charlie supposes. “Unless you wanted to talk to Allison first? Do you think that would help? She knows more about the Aunt Lily situation than I do.”

“You said she lives really far away,” Elijah says.

“Oh, yeah,” Charlie says. “Yeah, she’s up at the west edge of Winnebago County. Almost forty minutes away.”

Elijah practically sputters. “Forty minutes! Oh my god, forty minutes, who cares. Fuck forty minutes. That’s so close, Charlie, I thought you meant like five hundred states away. Jesus. Okay. We could go tonight, if she’s not busy.”

“Your enthusiasm is so endearing,” Charlie says, and he really means it. “I can text her.”

“Yeah, you should text her,” Elijah says.

“Who are you texting?” Corrine asks, and Charlie remembers where he is.

“Oh, uh, my cousin,” Charlie says, multitasking with his phone out.

“We’re checking out the ghost again,” Elijah says. “Charlie’s taking me back but we want to talk to his cousin first.”

 _Hi Al. Guess what. I went to your old house today with my psychic friend,_ Charlie types. Her read receipt appears instantly, and she starts typing back just as fast.

“Where does your cousin live, Charlie?” David asks.

“Winnebago,” Elijah answers for him. “Don’t bother him, Jesus, he’s texting his family…”

David laughs and shoves him.

_noooooooo lmao lmao_  
_stop_  
_chachi  
_ _omg_

Allison’s texts are coming in fast. Charlie remembers that she likes to use the messaging app from her computer instead of her phone – probably because she’s always on the computer.

_did they say it was haunted  
_ _did they see aunt lily omfg_

_Yes!_

_omgggggggg djashfkajhl_  
_ok lmao_  
_dude_  
_can u face time me_  
_CHARLIE_  
_CHARLES  
_ _is he w/ you lol can you face time me_

_He kinda wants to come over  
_ _I can tell him no though. If you aren’t up to having guests its fine_

_YEWS  
_ _YES_

_He’s a little sick but he’s really nice_

_YES_

_Yeah like he’s really sweet lol_

_YES_

_Ok be there in like an hour_

_YES_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more facts about elijah and charlie (for those of you who like to know OC details and stuff): 
> 
> they are flirting


	3. the store

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i don't want to spoil anything but in this one they go to my favorite place in the world: the grocery store

Elijah has been dozing for the past twenty minutes, which Charlie takes as a huge compliment to his driving. If the ride were bumpy or uneven or full of sharp and uncomfortable twists and turns, Elijah would be too disturbed to fall asleep. But Elijah’s out like a light, which means Charlie’s awesome at driving.

His phone buzzes with a text notification, and Charlie reaches for it because apparently he’s _actually_ an incredibly shitty and dangerous driver because he considers looking at his phone when he should have his eyes on the road. The drive to the edge of Winnebago is boring – totally flat and straight and through the farmlands – and he really wants to talk to someone about Elijah. But he knows better, so he keeps both his hands on the wheel.

They’re almost there anyway.

A few minutes before they reach Allison’s apartment complex, Elijah finally stirs with this cute little groan-yawn as he tugs on his seatbelt. “Sorry to be so boring,” he murmurs, his voice fading. Elijah clears his throat. “I really didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“Oh my god, no. No, no, no, it’s okay, you probably needed it,” Charlie says. He bounces in his seat a little. “How are you feeling?”

“Not so good, Charlie!” Elijah says, stretching as much as someone buckled into the front seat of a four-door Toyota possibly can. “Just kidding. I’m okay. I really think I’m getting sick now, though.”

“How come?” Charlie asks.

“Just, like…” Elijah pauses and sniffles, then he hums a little and he sounds _so_ congested. “Hmm. I don’t usually get allergies like this, and I go to all of these dusty places with Corrine for photo shoots and usually I’m okay, and if I’m not then it still doesn’t last this long. So it’s weird.”

“We can always come back tomorrow if you’re not feeling well,” Charlie suggests.

“Oh my god. Charlie. People tell me I’m stupid all the time but I think you’re stupider than I am. Think of the gas money.”

“How could I have forgotten the gas money! You’re so right. I’ll just show you to my cousin when you’re super sick and exhausted and sniffly and not feeling well.”

“It’s when I’m at my best.”

“Is there anything I can get you?” Charlie asks.

“Maybe, um…” Elijah considers for a second, then opens the glove compartment and pulls out another napkin. “If there’s somewhere I could get coffee. I think that’s all I need. It’d be super great. I know Winnebago’s a small town, though, so it’s fine if there’s nothing around. I just… need… something to wake me up.”

Poor Elijah. Seriously.

“Yeah, there’s a 24-hour grocery store that has those instant machines,” Charlie offers. “I’ll run in and get you something. You don’t even have to get out of the car.”

“I’ll come in with you. You’ll get my order all wrong. Black coffee with nothing in it,” Elijah says, then clears his throat. “I actually, uh… This sounds, like… not good, I guess, but it feels weird being alone when I’m seeing a lot of stuff. Even if the other person thinks it’s fake, it kind of helps me feel grounded.”

That totally makes sense. “Oh, yeah, dude, yeah, that totally makes—”

“Not—! That I’m really dependent or _incapable_ of being alone,” Elijah clarifies quickly, so hurried that his voice cracks. Charlie wonders if he’s blushing, but it’s too dark to tell. “I live by myself and it’s fine. I’m not clingy or anything. I just don’t prefer it.”

“Do you see ghosts, like, constantly?” Charlie asks as he starts to pull into the parking lot.

“It depends. Some days more than others. Some places more than others,” Elijah says. “Right now it’s sort of a lot, or like, not that I’m seeing them but I just feel that they’re around and it feels… _wrong_.”

“How long have you been able to see this stuff?” Charlie asks. He finds a parking spot right up front. Boo-yah. Nice. “Sorry to be all 20 questions with you. I promise this is the last one.”

“No, it’s okay.” Elijah says. “It’s been like, forever. Like my whole life. I got a lot of psych tests when I was a kid but I stopped going a really long time ago because they never found anything.”

Once he’s parked the car, Charlie swings his legs out and rushes over to the passenger side to open Elijah’s door for him. “That sucks, everyone thinking you’re crazy.”

Elijah grins up at him and his cheeks are a little pink. “How come you’re opening my door for me?”

“You said you were tired!”

“I’m fine, I just have a cold.” Elijah hops out of the car and makes a show of taking Charlie’s arm like he’s Elijah’s very chivalrous prom date. Charlie melts into it, playing along, and this lasts for just a few seconds before Elijah has to let go.

“ _Ehh’gytshYEW! –Aah!_ Oh my GOD, _excuse me_ , I’m so sorry.” He stumbles into the next one, the sound echoing through the vacant country lot. “ _Ah’HUH-ESSHh’YEW!_ Wow, Jesus, Sorry.”

“God _bless_ you,” Charlie says. It’s cute how sometimes Elijah has these really dramatic reactions to his own sneezes, and other times he seems like he’s trying to ignore them. He really wants to grab Elijah’s arm again, but then it wouldn’t be a game anymore. “I know you’re sick, dude, you didn’t have to prove it to me.”

“Thaaaank you.” Elijah draws out the word. He bumps into Charlie for a second and Charlie can’t tell if it was on purpose or not. They walk through the sliding doors together. “I think my body wanted to remind _me_ , actually. So I don’t get so cocky next time someone tries to be nice and open my car door for me because I have the sniffles.”

Charlie makes a beeline for the instant coffee machines, and Elijah matches his pace easily. “I know you came in with me and everything, but I still want to make your drink. Okay? It’s the least I can do.”

“Okay but please press the coffee button gently,” Elijah says flatly. “And use a huge cup. Use a giant cup.”

“Okay!” Charlie agrees, then he does exactly as he was instructed and it’s killing him a little how he can’t drag his fingers along the row of buttons so that the machine expels the exact same amount of liquid from each spout. Elijah’s eyes are right on him and it’s making him feel warm. Once he’s got the lid on tightly, he hands the cup over. “Try it.”

Elijah tries to sniff the coffee through the little hole in the lid, but he furrows his eyebrows and Charlie guesses that it means he can’t smell anything. He takes a sip instead. “Oh my god, it is so acidic. I feel so much better. I know this is going to help me.”

“Do you want anything to eat, while we’re here? Like a midnight snack for later?” Charlie asks.

“Uh,” Elijah says, considering. “That’s okay. I’m not super hungry. Do you want anything?”

“I’m not really hungry either,” Charlie agrees, and he wonders if it’s because he did a good job feeding himself dinner or because the basement made him lose his appetite, and then he wonders if Elijah might be wondering the same thing. “We can stop here on the way back if we need to.”

“Okay, cool.” Elijah starts to follow Charlie out of the store, and then he asks, “Are we going to pay for this or take it?”

“Oh, yeah, we probably should,” Charlie says. It’s a chain store and they probably could just walk out, but he has a feeling that it might be a bad idea. Elijah’s sipping on the coffee anyway and clearing his throat a lot and generally looking like he’s about to transform from dead to alive. Charlie takes care of the purchase, taking the cup from Elijah at the self-checkout and scanning it before paying and taking the receipt and immediately throwing the receipt in the garbage can and they’re on their way back out the door.

“I feel so awesome,” Elijah declares as they step back into the car. “I’m not jittery yet but _god_ I’m awake. Maybe it’s the placebo. I don’t really drink coffee a lot.”

“You sound a little better,” Charlie supplies, turning on the engine and starting the very short drive to Allison’s. It’s really dark now. This part of the county doesn’t have a lot of street lights because the population is so small and spread out, and the sky is too cloudy for stars.

“Yeah, I was sounding fucked up, right?” Elijah asks. “How bad is it now?”

“You still sound like you have a cold,” Charlie says. “Just, like, less.”

“Awesome,” Elijah says. He takes another sip and coughs a couple of times, purposefully into his shoulder. “Sorry. Uh. Hey. Can I—”

“Yeah? Oh, sorry—”

“Can I – it’s okay – can I put this in your cup holder? I think I’m good for now.”

“Yeah, dude. Yeah, of course,” Charlie says. He wonders why they keep accidentally interrupting each other – maybe they’re just both eager to talk with little impulse control, and frequently talking to each other while looking at something else.

Elijah puts his cup down and wobbles it to make sure it’s secure, then blows his nose again and it sounds a lot stronger than the first time he did it in Charlie’s car. Talk about character development, Charlie thinks, but he’d never say that because it’d probably be more embarrassing for Elijah than funny and that wouldn’t be worth making the joke.

Charlie pulls into a parking space in the back of Allison’s building, his headlights exposing the view of the wooden porches all lined up in even rows. Some of them have hanging plants, a couple have pumpkins. He sends a text.

_We made it!! Can we come up_

_YES_

_door is UNlocked i don’t want to come all the way down lol_   
_its cold_   
_warm in here tho come up!!_

_Alright already!_

_LOL_

“How does she text so fast? Your phone is like…” Elijah does what must be an impression of a vibrating phone. His hand shakes.

“She’s on a computer,” Charlie says.

“Are you gonna open my door for me this time?” Elijah asks.

“You… You’re on your own now.” Charlie kind of regrets saying that, because maybe Elijah would have held onto his arm again if he did, like as a repeat-joke or something. But he’d already started to refuse by the time he’d realized it, so instead he waits for Elijah and leads him up the wooden staircase to Allison’s apartment and reminds him to watch his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god! i have about 15k words written of this now and i didn't expect it to get so long and i'm trying to parcel it out... sometimes i might post two smaller parts in one day, but i'll try to add one in every 24 hours. thank you again for reading and please please tell me if you liked it! thank you!!


	4. the apartment

Allison lives alone on a second floor walk-up, in a nicely furnished two-bedroom unit with white carpet and pastel walls. She’s a freelance artist, and she’s really _really_ good, and she gets by just fine living in the middle of nowhere because it’s cheap and she works from home. Charlie knocks on the door and then steps inside, calling, “Al, we’re here!” 

“Stellar!” Allison calls back from down the hall leading to the bedrooms, and just a moment later she comes bounding to the front of her home wearing sweatpants and the softest sweater Charlie has ever seen, the kind of soft that needs to be dry-cleaned instead of machine washed. She hugs him to say hello and he notices that her hair is damp.

“Charlie, _hi!_ Thanks for coming!” She lets go and bounces on her feet as she turns to Elijah.

“Hi, I’m—”

“Oh my god, Sweet Elijah!” She hugs him too, no warning or anything, just barrels her body right into his and wraps her arms around his neck. Elijah hugs her back and manages to make the whole thing look comfortable and natural. “My lovely cousin Charlie said you were really sweet.”

Elijah smiles. “Thanks.”

Allison’s got a lot of energy for ten at night, but Charlie knows she keeps weird hours. “Can I get you anything? I have some stuff in the kitchen. I don’t think I have any snacks but I have half a banana cream pie, and I have a lot of tea if you like tea, and I think I still have some ice cream from last week.”

“Tea would be so good,” Charlie says. He’s not actually very interested, but he knows tea is good on a sore throat and hopefully Elijah can follow his lead now without feeling like he’s imposing.

“Cool! That’s great. Do you want a cup too, Elijah?” Allison asks, filling the electric kettle and placing it on the burner. “I have chamomile. Charlie said you had a cold.” 

“What else did Charlie say about me?” Elijah asks. Charlie takes a seat at the counter that divides the kitchen from the living room, bracing himself. Elijah sits down next to him.

“He said you were just _so nice_ ,” Allison says, and Charlie feels warm again and he doesn’t like it. Allison stands on her toes to reach for the mugs in the top cabinet. “And he said you were psychic, he called you psychic,” she recalls next, spinning around. “He didn’t say how cute you were, though! You’re kind of tall and you’re so skinny but your features are so pretty, you look like a doll—”

“Allison, don’t be weird,” Charlie says.

“Okay, I won’t be weird,” Allison agrees.

“It’s okay, it’s not weird,” Elijah says. “Charlie said I was psychic?”

“Yeah, like you talk to ghosts and stuff,” Allison says. She’s reaching into another cabinet and pulling out a couple boxes, then she brings them over to the counter. “I’m psychic too. Okay, pick one. I think chamomile is the smoothest, but lavender tastes better. Oh! Or we could do both, I could put two bags in a cup, it won’t be too crowded.”

“That’s a great idea,” Elijah says.

“What do you mean, you’re psychic too?” Charlie asks. 

“Uh, I’ve been telling you for weeks,” Allison says. She leans on the counter, across from them both. “Aunt Lily is, like, around. Her voice, her perfume, everything. I knew it wasn’t just me.” 

Elijah really perks up, more so than he did when he was drinking the huge coffee back at the supermarket. “She smells like hydrangeas, right? Like if she gets really close.”

“ _Oh my god!_ ” Allison practically shrieks, and Charlie’s worried that she woke the neighbors. “First of all, Elijah, how… oh my god. Ah! Oh, that’s so cool. How do you know what hydrangeas smell like?”

Elijah doesn’t seem freaked out by Allison’s enthusiasm at all. “I really like flowers,” he says.

“Your nose must be amazing,” Allison says. 

“It’s out of commission right now,” Elijah says. 

“Out of…? Oh! Oh, because you’re sick. I’m sorry. I hope you get it back soon. How are you feeling?” Allison asks. 

“I’m okay,” Elijah says. “I just started… sneezing when we were down in the basement and I thought maybe it was the dust, but I’m still… y’know.” He gestures to his face, using his right hand to make a lazy circle in front of his nose.

“God, Charlie!” Allison scolds. “Did you know Elijah was sick when you took him down there?” 

“No!” Charlie says. 

“Ooh, maybe the damp air and my family’s old memories just made you start feeling worse. Oh, yikes. I hope not,” Allison says. 

“I don’t think it works like that, Al,” Charlie says. He’s not surprised by Allison’s enthusiasm or the way she’s jumping from topic to topic, but she seems restless, her fingers twitching, leg bouncing like she’s itching to get up and move. 

“ _Hht’ISSschYEW!_ _… Huh’HH’EHSSch’UE!_ ” 

And just like that, Allison’s on her feet again. 

That pair of sneezes had Elijah bending forward sharply each time, and Charlie couldn’t see his face because he was turned away and it was hidden in his sleeve, but his shoulders shook and he shivered a little afterward. Charlie puts his hand on Elijah’s shoulder and runs it down his upper arm. 

“ _Bless_ you, Elijah, here, hang on, I’ve got some tissues, just a sec,” Allison disappears into her spare bedroom – last Charlie knew, she was using it as a studio – and Charlie can hear her rummaging around. 

“Doing okay?” Charlie asks quietly. “I know she’s kind of… Uh, a lot.” 

Elijah grins and says, “No, I really like her.”

“Okay, I found them,” Allison announces when she re-emerges, planting a floral-print box of tissues next to Elijah on the counter. “Just in case you need them for later. Did you—” 

Elijah interrupts her by snatching a tissue from the box and gasping into it. “ _Hih’HH’GYSSHH’UE!_ ” His cheeks color and he says, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you. You just had good timing. Sometimes the third one gets stuck.” 

“Oh, no, no!” Allison beams. “It’s okay. Don’t apologize. I was going to tell you that your sneeze is _really_ cute! Is that a weird thing to say? I mean, you know how some people don’t really have a cute sneeze, it’s just average? But yours is really—” She’s interrupted again, this time by the kettle boiling and beeping a little tune at her. 

“Thanks,” Elijah says as Allison pours the water from the kettle into the two mugs she has set out. One of them is a muted pink and the other is white with a clipart book stamped on the front. Charlie isn’t sure what the book is supposed to stand for. 

“Yeah! It might be because you have a cute voice.” He does, and Charlie wasn’t really thinking about that before but he knows he’s not going to be able to get it out of his mind for at least a while.  
  
“Thank you,” Elijah says again. There’s a little bit of modest laughter in his voice, and Charlie doesn’t have to look at him to know that Elijah is smiling. “I don’t think anyone’s ever told me that before.” 

“Oh, it’s so true! Feel free to sneeze to your heart’s content while you’re here. I know some people get kind of nervous about it being unsanitary but yours sounds so nice that I really don’t mind!”

God! Allison is so fucking weird.

“Okay, come this way now,” she continues, a mug in each hand as she walks over to the living room. “The couches are so much more comfortable. Here, you guys can take that one that faces the window and I’ll sit on the chair.” 

Elijah follows, and Charlie asks, “Al, when was the last time you had people over?”

“It was a really long time ago!” Allison tells him, too cheerfully for someone who just admitted to being lonely and never having any visitors. She’s so outgoing, and it’s sad that she coops herself up like this. “Sorry, that’s why I’m acting a little crazy. Not a lot of options for company all the way out here.”

“Does Lillian ever come over?” Elijah asks. He sits down on the couch after Charlie does, but he opts for the middle cushion instead of the other edge. 

“Hmm, not really,” Allison says, and Charlie is a little bitter that she knew who Elijah meant right away. “I have some stuff of hers that my parents gave to me when she died, like jewelry and whatever, and sometimes that stuff acts out and I can smell her and I think she pops into the room for a second. But not like at my old house.”

“Yeah, that m-makes sense,” Elijah says. “Sorry, hang on – _hh – Hih’h!_ ” His chest stutters and he brings his arm up to his face and he leans down and he… stays like that for a second before he unfolds. “Never mind. Stage fright.”

“Maybe I added too much pressure by complimenting your sneeze,” Allison muses.

“ _Huh’CZSHH’YEW!_ No, there it is.”

“Bless you!” Allison says.

“Thanks, sorry, I don’t know, something here is getting to me,” Elijah says.

“I think it’s your cold,” Charlie says.

“ _Hh’EHTCHZZH’uh!_ Jesus. Ugh. Jesus. Oh my god, no, it’s—”

“—bless you—”

“—Thank you! No, it’s so much more all of a sudden. It’s like, I don’t know, I’m all messed up.”

“From sneezing?” Charlie asks.

“From… no, from… oh my god, are you kidding—from—! _AHH’huh!… Hh’hah’HT’ESSHH’YEW’uh!_ Oh my _god_. Seriously. Okay, maybe if I…” Elijah stands up and walks back to the counter, blows his nose, and then walks back with the box under one arm. That seems to have done the trick. Charlie acts like he isn’t disappointed when Elijah sits at the further end of the couch this time.

“Are you okay?” Charlie asks.

Elijah leans against the other arm of the couch. “It’s like that last one was trying to take over my body. Say goodbye to Elijah. The man is gone. I’m all sneeze now.”

He’s making a joke, but he actually looks exhausted, his eyes heavy-lidded and his eyebrows furrowed like he’s frustrated or in pain.

“Allison,” he says after a couple moments, the back of his hand covering his eyes. He sniffles. “Have you ever seen ghosts that weren’t Lillian?”

“Hmm, no,” Allison says. She leans forward in the chair. “Aunt Lily isn’t the only one.”

“Why do you keep calling her Aunt Lily?” Charlie asks. “She was your grandma.”

“Yeah, but she was your aunt, so I’m being accommodating.”

“That’s cool,” Elijah says. “I’ve never met someone else who said they could see ghosts. Other than, like, people who were hallucinating or wanted to sell me spirit stones or whatever you call them.”

“I don’t think they’re called spirit stones,” Charlie says.

“Yeah, but I’m the real psychic, so I get to call them spirit stones and that makes it legitimate.”

That’s fair.

“I mostly just see people I know,” Allison explains. “Or, like, relatives of people I know, stuff like that. I think Grandma-Aunt Lily is here so much because I really knew her, like I lived in her house and everything.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Charlie asks.

“I’m telling you now! I mean, I kind of told you. We always talked about ghosts back in the good old days!”

“I guess,” Charlie says.

“Dude, I didn’t want people to think I was having hallucinations. That’s what it felt like at first, but I’ve had hallucinations, too, I think… Or I’ve at least gotten high and had trips that were essentially hallucinations, and it’s totally different.”

“That’s so weird,” Elijah says. He sits up a little. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone I know. But I guess I don’t know a lot of people.”

“Did you ever do drugs?” Allison asks. “Not, like the hard stuff. I mean like party drugs.”

“Uh, a couple times,” Elijah says. “Like when I was nineteen, I think? But you’re right, it’s different. They’re not comparable.”

“Yeah,” Allison says.

“Have you visited your old house since you started feeling like Lillian was getting closer?” Elijah asks. “I barely feel her here at all. I haven’t seen her.”

“No, she isn’t here right now,” Allison says. “Ooh, do you think we can get her to come out? Like a conjuring! Would that work?”

Elijah smiles. “Maybe only if we need her for something. It’d be rude to pull her out of whatever she’s up to.”

“Are you, like, a ghost expert?” Allison asks. “You seem like you know a lot about how they work.”

“I don’t really know that much,” Elijah says. “I know a little just from engaging with it for so long, but I’m kind of in the dark most of the time. How old are you, Allison?”

“I’m twenty-one. Charlie’s twenty-four.”

“Nice,” Elijah says. “We would’ve been in the same grade in school. We might have had math class together.”

“No way,” Charlie says. “I’m horrible at math. You would’ve been ahead of me.”

“That is _not true_ ,” Elijah says. “I’m bad at math too! Sorry to brag, but it’s the honest truth. We could have sat next to each other and everything. Are you good at math, Allison?”

“I’m okay,” Allison says. “I’m probably better at math than I am at seeing ghosts.”

“Good. We can be a team then,” Elijah decides. He falls back against the couch and puts his arm back up over his eyes. “Sorry, Allison. I’m not the best guest right now. I thought I’d be feeling a lot better than this when I decided to come over, but I’m really tired.”

Charlie’s heart feels like it’s breaking in two. Something about the sweet, earnest way Elijah talks sometimes, it’s…

“Oh, Elijah, please, no, you’re delightful!” Allison waves off quickly, her voice ringing like a bell.

“We definitely don’t have to go back to Aunt Lily’s tonight,” Charlie says. “We can go tomorrow, or like, next week when you’re feeling better.”

“I’m okay mostly, I swear,” Elijah says. “We should at least go tomorrow. I didn’t sleep a lot last night and it’s hitting me now.” He keeps coming up with different reasons for his exhaustion, which Charlie kind of wants to look into, but he knows it’s not his place.

“Here, I’ll take you home,” Charlie proposes, patting his pockets to make sure nothing fell out as he gets ready to stand.

“Oh! No, you can stay here!” Allison says. “Seriously, it’s such a long drive back, isn’t it? I have an extra bedroom that I don’t use at night.”

Charlie’s stayed in that bedroom, and he knows for a fact that the bed is soft and there’s a light outside of Allison’s building that shines right into the window, but she has curtains anyway so it’s not so bad. “If you want to,” he says to Elijah, “I can take the couch.”

“Hmm,” Elijah says. “Is it a twin bed?”

“It’s a full,” Allison tells him. “You guys could totally share if you want. Elijah’s skinny and the couch kind of sucks.”

Elijah looks right at Charlie, concerned. “Is that weird?” he asks. “You would definitely, definitely get sick if we did that. And we sort of just met. But-! But I’m fine with it. I sleep better if someone else is in the room, actually, but if it’s weird, we…”

“I can’t wait to catch the worst cold of my life,” Charlie says, accepting the offer. He stands up for real this time, and Allison hurries into the room to change the linens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wish allison were real


	5. the bed

“Let me sleep on the side that touches the wall,” Elijah insists, once Allison’s gotten the room ready for them and headed to sleep herself. “That way I won’t be coughing into the open air and I can just scrub the wall after I wake up and it’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Charlie agrees. “I’ll sleep on the outside edge and protect you.”

“Oh my god. Stop. You said it wouldn’t be weird. You’re making it weird,” Elijah says, but he’s smiling like maybe he likes weird, so Charlie doesn’t feel bad about it. Both of them are still in their jeans, because Allison doesn’t have anything that would fit them and sleeping in their underwear would _actually_ be weird-weird, so Charlie’s resigned to being a little bit uncomfortable. He hates letting his clothes touch the bed sheets, but tonight he’s willing to try and get over himself and make the sacrifice.

“Do you have trouble sleeping, usually?” Charlie asks.

“Not… um, okay wait. I… _hh’HUH’NGTSHh’uh!_ So sorry, I promise I won’t sneeze on you tonight, cross my heart.”

“It’s okay if you do,” Charlie says. “Like, I’m not asking you to, but I don’t care that much.”

“Well… I care!” Elijah says. He clears his throat. “I don’t, uh, anyway, I don’t have trouble sleeping all the time. I can fall asleep really fast, but sometimes I can’t stay asleep or I just wake up super early.”

“I’m totally the opposite,” Charlie says, watching Elijah climb into bed. “But once I’m out, I’m out.”

Trying to sleep next to Elijah does turn out to be weird, in fact, but not in a way that Charlie didn’t expect. He’s hyperaware of his position and the amount of space between them, and even though he really wants to shift positions, he doesn’t want to rustle any of the blankets or disturb the quiet by doing so, so he tenses his muscles and opens his eyes.

Elijah seems to be doing fine, though. He’s turned toward the wall – Charlie hopes that’s the side he normally sleeps on and he isn’t just trying to avoid _breathing_ on Charlie, because he meant it when he said he didn’t care – and his breathing is a little loud because of his cold, so Charlie can tell that his breaths are even and relaxed. He’s a little warm, but Charlie doesn’t know if he runs hot or if it’s just from being under a comforter with another person’s body heat. Charlie’s hot himself, just because of that.

“Do you want to open a window?” Elijah asks. His voice is soft, but still, Charlie almost jumps because he’d thought Elijah was asleep.

“Are you hot?” Charlie asks.

“Hmm. No,” Elijah says, and he turns over so that he’s facing Charlie. “I just like the white noise. My street gets loud at night, so I’m used to it. I know I won’t stay asleep when it’s silent like this.”

Charlie’s ready to jump into small talk and ask Elijah where he lives and whether he likes it there and if he grew up around here, but it’s past midnight and the room is dark and Elijah’s looking at him all earnest again, so Charlie rolls off of the mattress and heads over to the window.

“I could turn the fan on, too,” he offers.

“Yeah! Hell yeah, I love the fan,” Elijah agrees. He sits up and sniffles into his fist, the sound non-productive and miserable.

“This okay?” Charlie asks. He’s got the window up halfway, and there isn’t much buzz coming from the quiet country-town roads around them, but the wind is rhythmically rustling the dry leaves outside. Charlie switches the fan on next.

“Yeah,” Elijah says. “That sounds awesome. Come back.” He shifts further down under the covers, pulling the comforter up so that only his eyes and the top of his hair are peeking out.

“It’s, like, fifty degrees outside,” Charlie says. It might be colder than that, or warmer, because he’s pulling the number based off of the feeling of the air alone. “I can close it if you’re cold. You’re not supposed to catch a chill when you’re sick, I don’t think.”

“What do you do?” Elijah replies, lying flat on his back when Charlie edges back into the bed. “Like, are you a nurse?”

Charlie shakes his head. “No! I’m a sound tech.”

“Oh, wow, Charlie, that’s really cool,” Elijah says. He clears his throat. “I want to hear about it tomorrow when I’m really awake.” 

“Why did you ask if I was a nurse?”

“You’re good at taking care of people,” Elijah says. “Even if you didn’t know what asthma was.”

“I knew what asthma was!” Charlie protests, passionately, quietly.

“Yeah, okay.” Charlie doesn’t have to look at Elijah to see him rolling his eyes. “You were really nice about me being sick and we just met, so you don’t even know me that well, which is what made me think you must just generally be really good at taking care of people.”

“Nah, I don’t think I am,” Charlie says. “You’re easy to take care of, maybe.”

Elijah coughs, and Charlie feels the mattress shake a little along with Elijah’s shoulders. “Yeah,” he says finally. “Like I’m special.” He burrows deeper under the comforter until it’s practically covering his entire head. How can he breathe under there?

Charlie doesn’t ask. Instead, he shifts his weight and turns over so that he’s facing Elijah’s back, only he’s not touching him because he doesn’t want to be creepy even though Elijah is really, really warm. He slides his arm underneath his pillow and he doesn’t turn back and forth, right to left, back and forth, right to left until everything feels right, like he wants to. He feels the room getting colder and he doesn’t know what to do next.

Elijah’s asleep for sure, quick as a whistle like he’d said he would be, and Charlie knows this because he’s snoring for real this time and his body is a lot less still. He twists his hips so he’s lying pelvis-down, and one of his legs kicks back until his foot is pressing against Charlie’s shin. Charlie sighs, quietly and purposefully into the darkness.

He can’t remember the last time he shared a bed with somebody. His high school relationship had gone on to last him halfway through community college, but they were too young to cohabitate and rarely slept at each other’s places. He hooked up with a few different people afterward and dated a few others briefly, but the last time he got this intimate with someone had to have been…?

Months ago, at least. Probably longer, but Charlie’s chronological memory has never been the greatest.

The last person he slept with was his ex-girlfriend, Jenna. Jennifer. She was nice and pretty and she hung out at the concert hall he’d been working at, and they liked the same music and her family was a lot of fun. They lasted almost half a year, until the honeymoon period started to wane and they both realized that they didn’t like doing any of the same things and didn’t share a sense of humor. It’s weird how funny you can think someone is when you’re physically attracted to them on the spot and you feel like it’s supposed to work out.

The sex had been good, but they weren’t on the same wavelength. There was nothing to sustain them after the novelty had worn off. And that’s fine – Charlie doesn’t mind being single, not really. He knows enough people to be satisfied socially, and sex isn’t like water; he won’t die without it, even if it feels that way sometimes.

Still, though, it’s nice to be able to share an intimate space with someone. Well – someone he likes. He likes Elijah. He’s kind and funny and polite and lanky and smart and earnest and Charlie feels like he’s known him for two-hundred years instead of seven hours.

But _god,_ god-god-god, that’s not something he should be thinking about at one in the morning with the guy asleep and _sick_ right next to him.

Charlie does what he can to steer his thoughts in another direction. He thinks about his family for a while, but it just winds up with him wondering if they’d like Elijah (they would, of fucking course they would). Next, he thinks about maybe going back to college and what that’d be like, if it’d be worth it (probably not), and then he wonders if Elijah has a degree. What does Elijah do again? He’s some kind of artist, a photographer, Charlie remembers, like Corrine. God, Corrine is gorgeous. Charlie’s always felt safe around her. She really loves Elijah, too. She said they grew up together, and just last week she wouldn’t stop telling Charlie about how sweet and weird and wonderful he was.

Charlie thought Corrine was being a little extra about it, but after getting to know Elijah as much as you can get to know someone from sharing an evening and a bed with them (not in _that way_ , Charlie reminds himself), he understands how hard it is to keep from gushing about him endlessly. 

It’s like all of his pent up thoughts and feelings from the evening are coming to full bloom, now that he’s become tired and lonely and quiet. It’s probably not a great idea to process them on half-awake brain with only herbal tea in his stomach, but Charlie’s at the mercy of his mind. He doesn’t feel like he has a choice.

He doesn’t think it’s even been an hour since Elijah fell asleep, but Charlie misses him so much that he wishes he could wake him up. He’d never do that, but he feels a pull. God, something is wrong with him. Charlie’s never been one to fall fast. He wonders if he’ll feel this intensely about Elijah in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooooooooh its starting


	6. the kitchen

Partway through the night, Elijah had flipped over and pressed his face against Charlie’s back and kept it there until after sunrise. Charlie could have gone his entire life without knowing about it, but Elijah, in all his transparency, confesses everything right away in the morning.

“It’s okay,” Charlie says with a smile. “It’s totally fine. I woke up to an empty bed, though, have you been up for a long time?”

“Yeah, a little while,” Elijah says. His hair is a mess but it looks really good on him, his dark, thin curls sticking up all around his forehead and cheekbones. Charlie’s own hair, in contrast, is thick and straight and has probably bent itself into a weird and uneven shape overnight. He moves to pat it down a little and finds out that his bangs are sticking up from his forehead like he’s been electrocuted. “Oh, your phone was going off a lot.”

Elijah’s got a lot more energy in his voice, but it’s so deep and raspy that he almost sounds like a different person. Charlie doesn’t say anything in case he’s just one of those people who wakes up with their voice all wrecked.

“Thanks,” Charlie says. “Probably Allison. Is she awake yet?”

“I…” Elijah hesitates and looks massively uncomfortable. He clears his throat and coughs. And coughs. “Sorry. Uh, she, um, she went to the store because she said she needed more tea. She used the last caffeinated bag on me.”

Charlie looks at his phone. He wants to keep talking to Elijah, but it’s so hard for his mind to wake up that much so quickly. He’s surprised to see five new messages from Corrine waiting for him just past his lock screen.

 _Hey Elijah said he was still w/ you from yesterday??? Lover boy…….  
_ _Kidding!!!!! But seriously  
_ _This is gonna sound weird as fuck so don’t think of me as doting or maternal haha but can u please PLEASE get him to eat breakfast  
_ _Hes so weird when hes sick and doesn’t want to eat ANYTHING because his throat hurts and hes spacey_  
So I think he also didn’t eat anything yesterday or he ate very little so I get a bit worried bc hes tiny. But he will prob listen to u!!!

No wonder he was so tired yesterday, if Corrine’s hunch is right (and Charlie has a feeling that it is). Impulsively, he wants to tell Elijah what Corrine said and ask him invasive questions about his diet, but it’s too early for that. On the other hand, if he offers food to Elijah right after reading from his phone, he might look suspicious and the jig will be up anyhow. Charlie hates keeping secrets.

“What are you drinking?” he decides to ask instead.

“Strawberry black tea,” Elijah says. “It’s good. Allison said she was going to get some more, but you can try mine first if you want to.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Charlie says.

“O… _huh’hh!_ …okay. _Huh’IDSZCHh!_ Ah. _Huh’IHDSSH’YEW! …Hh’HIH’CHSSHUE’uh!_ ”

Charlie waits a few seconds this time, choosing not to say anything until Elijah comes back up for air and turns to face him again.

“Uh, god bless you. Wow,” is what he settles on, because he’s still so tired and can’t come up with any further commentary.

“Jesus Christ. Um, thank you. Excuse me,” Elijah says, just before turning away again and blowing his nose. “I’m so surprised I didn’t wake you up when I—” He stops short, looking like a deer in the headlights. After a moment, he unfreezes and his expression becomes more relaxed. “Uh, when I was sneezing?”

Charlie stretches and pops his back. “I told you, dude. Once I’m asleep I may as well be in a coma. I’ve slept through an earthquake before.”

“We have earthquakes in Illinois?” Elijah asks.

“Yeah, mostly just tiny ones. Not that I would know because I…”

“Slept through them!”

“Yeah, because I slept through them!”

Elijah sniffles and grabs another tissue, but he doesn’t do anything with it, just holds it against his face. “That’s so crazy. I had no idea,” he says. With his free hand, he takes another sip from his mug. “I got so worried about waking you up. I guess sometimes people say that they’re heavy sleepers because they don’t want you to worry about bothering them, and that kind of seems like something you would do, so I just didn’t know.”

“You think I would do that?” Charlie asks. He notices the window in the living room is open when an aggressive breeze blows some of Allison’s receipts across the coffee table.

“Oh yeah,” Elijah says confidently. “You’re really accommodating, but it’s in a tricky way.”

“I’d never lie to you, Elijah,” Charlie replies, his voice solemn like he’s overselling it a little, but he does mean it.

Elijah smiles at him in response, but Charlie can’t quite tell what kind of smile it is.

The sound of deadbolt metal clanking against itself resounds off of the walls, and Allison steps inside through the front door a few seconds later. She’s balancing a paper grocery bag on her hip while she messes with the keys, and she’s wearing a long coat and a hat that Charlie’s never seen on her before.

“Good _morning!_ ” she says, removing her shoes before approaching the counter and beginning to unpack her purchases. “It’s so cold outside! I know it gets warmer when the sun comes out, but sheesh. Elijah, are you cold? Do you want my hat?”

“He does,” Charlie says, stepping up to help her with the things she’s bought. He notices a lot of frozen meals, a bag of pears, and a variety pack of instant teabags. “I’ll take the coat.”

“Yeah right,” Allison says back. She puts most of her groceries in the freezer and unloads the pears onto a little bowl by the sink. “Elijah is more of a guest than you are. And you wouldn’t fit.” She takes her coat off anyway, though, and hangs it around Elijah’s shoulders instead of Charlie’s. He’s skinnier than Allison, but he’s taller and his frame is just a little broader, so it doesn’t drape around him like she probably wanted it to. “Sorry, I’m using you as a coat rack for a sec. Did you know you’re shivering a little?”

“Oh, yeah.” Elijah tilts the mug into his mouth, likely downing the rest of his tea. “I get cold faster than a lot of people. Every time I tell someone about it they say it’s because I’m skinny, but—”

“Oh, no! I was going to ask you if you get chills from ghosts,” Allison interrupts. She’s standing at the sink, scrubbing a pear. Charlie has no idea what she’s going to do with it. “Like, shivers down your spine?”

“ _Hdt’CHZHh’uh!_ Yeah, but – _hh’HH! EHT’CHSH’yew!_ But I think everyone gets those once in a while. Excuse me.” Elijah jerks forward a little each time, and Allison’s coat nearly slides to the floor before he catches it, correcting its placement on his shoulders during the end of his sentence.

“Bless you! I guess you’re right,” Allison says. She’s got four pears on a wooden board now, and she’s very rapidly slicing them in half and scooping out the seeds. “Hey, ooh, oh, Charlie. _Guess_ what we did last night!”

“You guys did something without me?” Charlie asks. He’s not surprised he missed it, because he was asleep, but he’s immediately hungry for information.

“ _Yes!_ ” Allison says. He’s a little worried at how much she’s bouncing while she’s in motion with a knife in her tiny dangerous hand, but she finishes with the pears and puts it in the sink. “We – talked to – my grandpa!”

“Last night?!” Charlie asks. He looks at Elijah for confirmation; not that he thinks Allison would lie, but her overall tone tends to be riddled with embellishments when she’s excited about something.

“Yeah, s-sort of,” Elijah says hurriedly before thoughtfully coughing into the side of his wrist. No germs on Allison’s clothes.

“Elijah talked to him. Not me, technically. I never knew him! So I had no idea he was around. But some of my shit—I mean, my stuff—was being, um, Elijah, what was the word you used? _Disturbed_. And I was kind of freaked out and I heard Elijah up _coughing_ anyway, so I figured maybe we could make a deal and I could exchange a ghost consultation for some cough syrup. Not like I wouldn’t give him the cough syrup if he didn’t want to do it, Elijah, I hope you know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know that.”

“Yeah! So I went into where you guys were sleeping and – Elijah, it’s okay if I tell this story, right?” Allison asks.

Elijah clears his throat. “Dude, she made me promise not to tell you anything about it because she really wanted to tell you first,” he says to Charlie. “Allison, please tell the story.”

“Yes! Okay, thank you.” Allison pulls a frying pan from the lower cupboard and some butter from the fridge and Charlie wants to know if she’s just planning on frying the pears. “So I go in there and Elijah is in there – and you were there too, Charlie, but not really, you were sleeping, you’re not part of this, no offense – and I proposed my deal to him and we went into my room.”

Oh, wow. Yeah she is. She’s frying the pears.

“…And we’re in my room and Elijah is like standing there sipping from this little cup of medicine that I gave him, and then I realize, like, oh my god, oh no! We have to act fast because what if I gave him the _night time_ cold meds instead of the regular ones and he gets all loopy before we have a chance to figure out what’s happening on my nightstand. I mean my dresser, sorry, oh, Charlie, do you remember? The one we found at that estate sale last year and _anyway_ , Elijah stopped coughing so badly and I kind of forgot about acting fast because something _knocked over my bottle of—_ ”

“ _Eht’NTSH’ew!_ ”

“ _—perfume_ – bless you! – and I was like, ‘Did you see that? Has that ever happened to you?’ and Elijah was like, ‘Yeah, but only if the spirit is really powerful, how long has Lillian been dead?’”

Elijah calling her Lillian out of politeness is so cute.

“And I told him, y’know, like not that long, fifteen years I think? Charlie do you remember?”

Fifteen years sounds right. “I think you’d remember it better than me,” Charlie says.

“Oh yeah, I forgot your memory sucks. Whatever, I guess it’s not super important, because either way Elijah said she hasn’t been dead long enough to—”

“ _Heh’TSSH’yew!_ ”

“—get enough strength to do something like that, unless she’s going off of the just-became-a-ghost life force strength that all ghosts have when they first die, but hers would have definitely run out by now. Did I get it right? Bless you.”

“Thanks. Yeah, that’s right,” Elijah says. His shoulders had scrunched up a little extra as he bowed his head into his wrist, unable to move his arm up to sneeze into it like he usually did without risking the integrity of Allison’s coat.

“Yeah! So we were like, okay, it can’t be Grandma-Aunt Lily. And I was just struggling to myself trying to think of what else could be happening, and then I remembered Elijah said he wasn’t a one-ghost kind of guy, so I asked him if there was anyone else here, and he said yes! And I said who! And he said he couldn’t tell yet but it was a man, and he knew that because he was getting a headache and a lot of older male spirits do that to him for some reason, and I was like, oh, that’s so funny, men give me a headache too! Get it?”

“Yeah, men are kind of terrible,” Charlie says.

“Yeah! No offense to you guys.”

“I didn’t know you felt differently depending on the kind of spirit there,” Charlie says, watching Allison shake some assortment of spices onto the pears. It smells pretty good.

“Oh, sure,” Elijah says after a couple moments, like he’d just realized that he was being prompted to explain. “It’s another Elijah fact. But it’s kind of complicated. I don’t really understand it all the way, but I think it depends on how present the spirit is, like how actively they’re trying to communicate. Usually it’s fine, but sometimes…”

“Sometimes it’s so bad, you said!” Allison says, exposing him. “Like your vision swims a little and you have to sit down!”

“Oh, I mean, um, it— um— yeah, it’s fine.” Elijah looks uncomfortable, vulnerable, and he laughs a little. “Like, it’s okay. That’s only happened to me a few times.”

“Was it like that last night?” Charlie asks. “Do you feel okay now?”

“Not that bad,” Elijah says quickly, like he’s trying to smooth over a sticky situation. “No, I’m fine. He definitely, uh, wanted something, because they don’t mess with your stuff unless there’s something going on.”

“And because you kept saying ‘ow!’ while you were trying to talk,” Allison adds. “And you got that little – ooh! Charlie, he got this little, like, thingy on his wrist, I don’t know how you say it? Kind of like a tattoo but it was just three dots, it looked sort of cool, and it got darker every time something else got knocked over! I can’t believe people don’t believe in ghosts. I think if they saw that, they’d know it was for real. But the marks are gone now! Elijah, show him your wrist.”

“Yeah, do you want to see my pale unmarked wrist with nothing interesting or unusual on it?” Elijah pushes up his sleeve.

“I’d love to,” Charlie agrees. Elijah complies by first shrugging off Allison’s jacket and folding it over his right arm, then extending his left for Charlie to inspect. “Sometimes I get this little vanishing tattoo there, even when I don’t think there are any ghosts around. But now? Look at that. Totally blank. But Allison can vouch for me.”

“Is this your dominant hand?” Charlie asks. He lets his fingertips brush against Elijah’s skin, and it’s not warm like it had been overnight. He can feel Elijah’s pulse.

“Hm? Oh, uh.” Elijah thinks for a second, which almost answers the question just because, in Charlie’s experience, left-handed people seem to have a lot more trouble telling left from right. “Yes! Yeah, I’m left-handed. Um, Allison, did you want this back…?” He holds out his right arm like it’s a branch, the coat draped over it. He’s probably been waiting to be able to offer it back so he can use his arms again.

Allison looks up from plating the pears and smiles. “Oh, yeah! Sorry, I was busy with this and forgot you were still wearing it! Just give me one sec.” She sets a couple of plates down on the counter before swiping her coat from Elijah and hanging it on a hook on the wall.

“I’m not really that hungry,” Elijah confesses, just like Corrine had said he would. “Thank you so much for making breakfast, though.”

“Oh, that’s okay!” Allison says. “You don’t have to eat if you’re not hungry.”

Charlie nods, but he’s a little freaked out. He knows you can’t _force_ somebody to eat anything, especially an adult, and this is more of a dessert than a meal anyway, but Elijah might stop trembling if he had some calories in his system. “Where did you get the idea to fry pears?”

“I just wanted pears,” Allison says, sitting across from them. “I had this yogurt a few days ago that had the _best_ spiced pears in it, and I forgot what it was called but I thought, oh, maybe I could make something like that!”

Charlie takes a bite and looks up at the ceiling while he chews, the sugars melting in his mouth. It’s pretty rich and _really_ spicy, but he knows Allison likes sweets and he wasn’t expecting the flavor to be very tame. “It’s good,” he finally says, because it is. “Elijah, try a bite. If you want.” He nudges his plate to the right.

“Well, when you put it like that,” Elijah says. “How can I argue with ‘it’s good’? You’re very persuasive.” He takes a bite anyway, and Charlie looks away because it sucks to be stared at while you’re eating. “It is good! Charlie, I’m keeping this plate.”

Charlie laughs. “Okay—”

“Not because of like, greedy reasons!” Elijah corrects. “Well, kind of those reasons too. But mostly just because I used your fork and – y’know.”

“I know,” Charlie confirms as he makes himself another plate, satisfied by the way the fruit has caramelized and stays in one piece as he picks it up with his fork. Allison plays with her food mostly, cutting it up and dragging each piece along the plate. “Did your grandpa actually say anything last night?” he asks her.

“Oh yeah, I was getting to that part. I think it’s the most important,” Allison says. “He wants us to go back to the basement! Well, you guys. I can’t see him so I’d probably be useless, and I also don’t really want to go anyway.”

“Why does he want us to go—”

“ _Hd’ESSHh’YEW!_ ”

“—to go back there? Bless you.” Charlie’s sitting close enough to Elijah to have felt him shudder with that one, so he pats him on the arm a little, for solidarity. Or something.

Elijah doesn’t seem to mind, but he does shudder again during the second sneeze and Charlie grips him a little tighter, involuntarily, like he’s trying to steady him. “ _Heh’IHDSSH’YEW!_ Thank you. He, um… God…” Elijah pauses and turns to the side just to sniffle against his wrist. Charlie lets go. “There’s something in that spare bedroom that we need to get. It’s something that shouldn’t, uh. This is gonna sound really Halloween Movie. It’s something that shouldn’t be there.”

“What kind of… something?” Charlie asks.

“He wouldn’t tell us,” Allison says. “But he was being _really_ pushy! I have no idea if he was that pushy before he became a ghost. Elijah said that he can communicate probably better from his ‘place of residence before death’ – right?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah! So if you go back to my old house, then maybe you’ll find out what it is.”

Charlie shifts in his seat. “I’m down. Is it better to go back at night?” he asks Elijah.

“Yeah, a little bit. It’s easier to see them when it’s dark,” he says. “And I _think_ they can communicate better at night, too, but I don’t know if that’s just because everyone always says that the creepy stuff comes out at night and I’ve internalized it.”

“Hmm,” Charlie says. “I have to work tonight at five, but it’s not going to be dark by then.”

“Where do you work?” Elijah asks.

“Tonight I’m filling in for the sound guy at the community theatre by the river. There’s a show that ends at nine, so I should be done by ten, if that won’t be too late for you?”

“No, that’s good, actually,” Elijah says. “I’m shooting at sunset anyway. How about, um…” His voice starts to fade, and he clears his throat a couple of times. “How about we leave now. Because I feel like I’m overstaying my welcome at Allison’s, even if, um, even if Allison, you tell me that I’m not. And then—”

“You’re really not!” Allison promises.

“I know,” Elijah smiles. “That’s nice of you. Charlie, would you mind dropping me off at my house…? And then I can meet you when you’re done with work. Does that sound okay?”

Does it ever. Charlie has been waiting and waiting and _waiting_ to take a shower, and even though he’ll have to take another one after they get back from Aunt Lily’s again tonight, he’s looking forward to the relief. He feels like the grime has already settled underneath his skin.

“Yeah, that works. Can you remind me where you live again?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more facts:
> 
> allison only eats desserts  
> elijah gets the worst sore throat in the world every time he's sick  
> charlie really likes his job but he complains about working because he forgets that he likes it until he's actually doing it


	7. the texts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is my favorite chapter. it was so fun to write and i could have probably kept writing it for 5000 years if i didnt force myself to put a cap on it. i hope you like it too

_Charlie I think you’re an angel_  
_Elijah’s taking photos now and he told me he was already full from breakfast????_  
_How’d you do it???_

_Oh I didn’t do anything lol I think he was just hhhhhhhhhhuuuungry_

_Why did you type it like that Charlie_

_Idk_  
_I just said that the pears were good and i slid my plate to him and he ate the whole plate_  
_Not literally the plate_  
_Then otw back I went through a drive thru for me and we shared_

 _Hmmm  It sounds like he just wanted to share food with you  
_ _Hes talking about you a lot!!!!!! I Think he has a CRUSH on you_

 _Stop  
_ _Im working corrine bye_

Charlie isn’t supposed to text at work, usually, but the guy he was supposed to replace had shown up last minute anyway, so now they’re having Charlie work at the edge of a dark balcony as the assistant to the really bored  and pretty young woman who’s working lights. Every once in a while he slides or turns a knob, but he’s otherwise useless (and grateful for his phone).

It had started blowing up literally the minute after he and Elijah left Allison’s, with a very long text thread from Allison that read:

 _omjghkgjahjhldah_  
_youre in LOVE with psychic sweet elijah_  
_its sooooo cute charlie you looove him_  
_omg_  
_dont let him see these texts lol_  
_rlijah can u see this? respond if its you and i  wont tell charlie you saw_  
_lmao lmao omg but bak to charlie i kno you just met Elijah_  
_but u love him how did you fall in lbve so fast_  
_i can see why u like him i  like him too but u like him on another LEVEL_  
_omfg_  
_what happened did u guys kiss. it didn’t look like it_  
_text me later drive safe cousin_  
_sakdfhkalfha omg did you guys kiss_  
_AAAAAAAA_

He took a second to respond _Wtf Al_ once he got home, but for the most part, he decided to deal with her later. It’s too much to think about right now, knowing that he was going to see Elijah again in just a couple hours when they have a job to do.

It feels like Charlie dropped him off a million years ago. He’d learned that Elijah doesn’t live in a great neighborhood – Charlie didn’t feel unsafe there, but it was close to the “bad side” of town, west of the river – in a one-bedroom apartment that called itself a “studio” because the _one bedroom_ didn’t have a door on the hinges. He can see how Elijah gets around without a car, even though the public transportation in the city is abysmal and doesn’t seem to run on much of a schedule. There’s a little shopping center and a few restaurants in walking distance, and Charlie assumes that because Elijah mostly works with Corrine, she’s usually able to give him rides to and from their shooting locations.

The woman Charlie’s working with nudges him as a new song starts down on the stage, and he changes the backlights from purple to green (whoops!) to yellow-orange. He’s high up enough to see the band working behind the curtain, and he watches two percussionists toss a hacky sack back and forth as they wait for their cues.  His phone buzzes again.

 _charlie im waiting_  
_oooooomg I kno youre there  
_ _u have read receipts turned on idiot_

 _  
_ _I’M BUSY ALLISON_

  
_yea right you want to talk about your beautiful boy_  
_too busy to talk about your beautiful boy?_  
_no_

_Stop teasing me. I’m sensitive_

_hmmm_  
_HMMMMMM_  
_ok_  
_just wanted 2 congratulate you live_  
_for falling in love_  
_proud of you cousin_  
_its for your own good youre repressed and i have to help you_

_Oh my god_

_i  hope u date elijah hes so nice you were right_  
_i think hes like the sweetest boy ive ever met_  
_youre nice too but elijah?_  
_sweet as pumpkin pie_  
_blueberry pie maybe_  
_i think h ehas blue eyes?_

_Yeah he does_

_I KNOW LMFAO  OOOOOH U LIKE HIM!!!!!!!_

Charlie looks to his side and sees that his work buddy the lights lady has written him a note. It says “DON’T TEXT DURING THE SHOW”, in all caps just like that, and Charlie thinks that’s just fine because he wasn’t planning on replying to Allison anyway.

He works in silence for the next few songs, trying to watch the show. It’s a musical that he’s never heard of before, about a family from Northern Europe who are constantly singing about how much they love their matriarch. He doesn’t remember what it’s called, but there’s a song about stuffed cabbage that he kind of likes.

After intermission, Charlie’s phone buzzes again. He checks the screen, just in case it’s an emergency.

_Hey_

It’s Elijah.

 _Hey_ , Charlie types back.

_Hi_

_Hey_

_Hey_

_Hello_

_Hi_

The thread continues on for two songs. Charlie’s having the time of his life.

Several greetings later, Elijah’s the one to break the chain when he says, all in one go,  _Hey hey hi hi hi hi hi hi hello hello hey hey hi Charlie can you give me your address_

 _342 Chestnut  
_ _You done?_

_Yeah it got dark. Ghosts came out. everyone ran from set but me. October. spooked_

_Should have taken pics of the ghosts :/_  
_Loved your poem just now btw_  
_Was it a haiku?_

_Yes_

_No it wasnt  
_ _Do you know what a haiku is?_

_Yes_  
_Creative control_  
_Psychics write haikus differently_

_I’m so sorry…  
I didn’t mean to assume… _

_Its okay…  
_ _CHARLIE, I’m on my way over. Walking. Be there in 20? 25?_

_I’m working lights instead so I’m on the second floor_

_Cool. I can wait outside_

_It’s cold snow miser you can wait inside. I’m on the second floor_

_I’ll come to the second floor_

_Great!  
_ _Second floor_

_Second floor_

_You might have to be quiet or pretend we don’t know each other. I’m already not supposed to be texting_

_We kind of don’t know each other. We were casual acquaintances until yesterday_

_We shared a bed_

_Yeah that was nice_  
_Sorry_  
_Hope you love waking up with a sore throat_

 _It’s my favorite_  
_Are you f_  
_Feelok*_  
_Feeling okay?*_  
*********

 _The stars look so beautiful tonight_  
_Yeah I think so_  
_Still just stuffy and I keep having to sneeze_  
_You’ve probably heard me sneeze more than anyone else has in my entire life_

 _Somehow I doubt that’s true  
_ _ & Bless you _

_Thanks_

_Yw. I know I must have missed a lot. My streak is over and its killing me_

_Your streak ended when you fell asleep.  
_ _I really hate to break it to you but I sneezed at least a dozen times while I was communicating with the dead at 4 in the morning_

 _Oh god  
_ _I’m so far behind. Sorry to let you down_

_It’s ok I think Allison got most of them_

_It’s not the same_

_Hmm you’re right  
_ _The last time I sneezed was when I was typing “hi” to you_

 _Thank you for keeping me updated  
_ _Blesss you_

 _Thankk you  
_ _Impressive how you get each one_

_Thank you. It’s a compulsion_

_Is it actually?_

_Nahhhhhhhhhh_

_Hhhhhh_

_I do have OCD but not for sneezing  
_ _At least not right now. That shit can change on you_

 _Yeah_  
_I’m sorry_  
_I don’t know why I said “yeah” because I cant understand because I don’t have OCd._  
_Are you doing okay?_

 _Aw haha yeah I’m fine  
_ _I did some really intensive cbt programs. I was on meds but I’ve been off them for a while bc I’m doing a lot better_

 _That’s good Charlie. I’m glad to hear it  
_ _Thanks for telling me_

_Yeah thanks for being understanding and compassionate_

_I’m being normal_  
_You do deserve compassion though_  
_I’m almost there_

 _Okay come up the hill and theres a little door  
_ _It’s to the right and DON’T turn on any lights. You’ll ruin the show_

_How could I ever live with myself_

_And then you can just chill in the foyer for like 30 mins  
_ _Omg I know_

 _Charlie!  
_ _I’ll see you soon_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> time for more notes: 
> 
> charlie and elijah really do text the same so if it got confusing PLEASE let me know and i'll change the formatting
> 
> i love typos very much i think theyre so authentic funny and cute
> 
> "I really hate to break it to you but I sneezed at least a dozen times while I was communicating with the dead at 4 in the morning" is my favorite line i've EVER written
> 
> charlie's made his peace with having OCD and he copes ok (not perfectly), but he's reluctant to talk about it because he's worried about making people feel weird or uncomfortable or pressured to react a certain way
> 
> end of trivia! please! let me know! if you liked it! thank you! thank you!


	8. the closet

Elijah isn’t dressed for the weather.

Sometimes, during midwestern October, the temperature drops at least fifteen degrees after the sun goes down. Charlie doesn’t know if it’s like that all over the country, because he’s never lived outside of the midwest, but he’s definitely used to tying a jacket around his waist and keeping gloves in his car during the transitional seasons.

Aunt Lily’s house isn’t heated, obviously. Nobody wanted to live there after Allison’s family moved out because the location kind of sucks and everything about the place, from the appliances to the wallpaper to the linoleum and the doorknobs, was incredibly dated back then and is in even worse shape now. The walls are cracked -- the actual walls, not just the paint -- because the plaster should have been replaced years ago, and the upstairs floor is only becoming more and more tilted as the house continues to bend and crumble.

Elijah had deemed the basement to be a bust as soon as they’d entered, so Charlie had lead him upstairs. The place isn’t very big, and he remembers it well enough to be able to find his way around in the dark. As soon as they’d entered, Elijah made a beeline for a pile of magazines that sat on a coffee table that Allison’s parents had left behind.

Now he’s leafing through one of them, shivering in his single-layer pullover sweatshirt and ill-fitting jeans, squinting as he holds a 1998 copy of  _ InStyle _ up to the window.

“What are you trying to find?” Charlie asks.

“I’m trying to read this article by the moonlight,” Elijah says. “It had a page ripped out and I can’t figure out why. I think it was an ad.” His voice echoes through the vacant space, bouncing off of the cracked wood floor beneath them, less intelligible from the congestion.

“Is Marvin here?” Charlie asks.

“Who?”

“Oh, my uncle. Sorry. I should’ve introduced him to you.”

“Marvin,” Elijah says. He sighs a little and his shoulders slump up and down. “It’s fitting.”

“You think?” Charlie asks. He almost bumps into a rocking chair as he walks over to where Elijah’s standing. “I never knew him.”

“Yeah, he’s really gruff,” Elijah says. He puts the magazine down and coughs into his shoulder. “I dunno if years of h-haunting have made him that way, but…” He stops and coughs again. “But he’s definitely like that now. Do you know much about what he was like?”

His cough sounds worse, but it’s probably all the dust and Charlie pushes his worry down to the bottom of his stomach in hopes that it won't re-emerge. “Nah, not really, sorry,” Charlie says. “He died kind of young and wasn’t really too involved with his family. No one really has much to say about him.”

“Hmm, poor Uncle Marvin,” Elijah replies, sounding theatrically disinterested. 

“Do you think that’s why he’s being like this?” Charlie asks. “He wants to be remembered?”

“I dunno, maybe. Sometimes people are petty like that, so I wouldn’t doubt that ghosts could be too. Or sometimes they just get, like, pissed off for stupid reasons,” Elijah says. “Like the unfinished business trope, but lamer. And sadder.”

Charlie’s curious, but he stays quiet. He kicks at some of the dried leaves that they’ve tracked in and left around the living room and asks a practical question instead. “Do they ever get… dangerous?”

“Oh, that’s a good question.” Elijah sniffles and starts inspecting something on the windowsill. “I’ll answer you, but first can you answer mine?”

“Yeah. Hit me,” Charlie says.

“Why aren’t you scared?”

For some reason, it had never even occurred to Charlie that he should be. This question stumps him. “I don’t know,” he says. “Maybe because you’re not scared?”

“Really?” Elijah asks. The word seems to get caught in his throat.

“Yeah,” Charlie says. “ _ You _ seem to know what you’re doing.”

“I’m used to it,” Elijah explains. “But they usually i-ignore me because it… sorry –  _ hh’EHGYSHh! _ Because it’s never personal.”

“Bless you.”

“Not yet.”

“Not…?”

“ _ Huh’EHTSHH’uh! _ Okay thank you.”

“Bless you again.”

“Oh yeah.” Elijah sniffles and moves from the windowsill, gently bumping into Elijah on his way to the master bedroom. “I forgot you’re in bless you debt.”

“I’ll catch up some day. Mark my words,” Charlie promises. He follows Elijah into the bedroom and watches him suspiciously eyeing the mirrored doors of the closet. The room isn’t very big, and Charlie uses his flashlight to find out that there are scuffs on the floor where the bed used to be. It smells earthy and there’s a draft coming from somewhere, even though the wall looks to be intact and the windows are closed.

“Can I open this?” Elijah asks. 

Charlie steps closer to Elijah and notices he’s shaking a little. “Yeah, go ahead. My closet – I mean my Aunt Lily's closet – is your closet,” he says.

Carefully, Elijah slides the door open. Metal scraping metal makes a shrill, uncomfortable noise, and then the mirrored door wobbles upward and clangs against the top hinge. Elijah sniffles. “Look,” he says. “It isn’t empty.” Charlie steps forward, his flashlight-bearing arm outstretched in front of him. Elijah takes a step back.

“ _ Heh’EHDSHh’yew! Hh’ESHH’YEW! _ ” Those two tumble out of him quickly, and Charlie feels a quick rush of air on the skin of his exposed hand as Elijah twists around. He steps outside the room, and while trying to decide whether he should disturb the stack of half-used toiletries sitting on the top shelf, Charlie can hear Elijah blowing his nose.

Impulsively, Charlie reaches up and touches one of the bottles. He shines a light on the label and reads  _ Herbal Essences Moroccan My Shine Shampoo (with real Moroccan Oil) _ and sets the flashlight down. He covers the label with the entire palm of his right hand, then switches to his left hand and does the same before putting the bottle back and wringing his hands to keep from repeating the process with everything else in the closet. He picks up the flashlight again and sees a few more bottles, a hairbrush, and some really old, grimy makeup tools that had probably been forgotten about long before Allison’s parents moved out.

“See anything good?” Elijah asks when he re-enters.

“Think we hit the motherload. Come check it out,” Charlie says.

“Oh good. I bet there’s tons of haunted closet stuff in there. Hangers. Orthotics,” Elijah lists, leaning into the closet. The door isn’t open all the way, so there’s not a lot of space, just a couple inches between their shoulders. “Oh.”

“What?” Charlie asks.

“There’s really a lot of… Jesus h-hang on– _ hh! _ ” Elijah’s breath stutters, and his shoulder knocks into Charlie’s when he turns away into his forearm. “ _ Huh’NGKTSHuh! Hh’UH’TZSCHHyew! _ Ugh, so sorry, I think –  _ HUH’IDZCH’YIEW! _ –  _ sorry! _ – I think something in here is making me sneeze.” He steps out, and Charlie turns around and pokes his head out to see Elijah lean against the wall and sniffle again. “You’re gonna have to list to me what’s in there.”

“Bless you! Are you okay?” Charlie asks. “What were you saying before?”

Elijah smiles at him. “I”m fine! I was just saying that there’s a lot of DNA on the shelf, and ghosts are usually really tied to that.” He’s got his head back and he’s scrubbing at his eyes with a fist, and Charlie tries not to think about all of the dust and crumbled plaster that’s probably going to end up in his hair. “What else do you see?”

“Some makeup, a few shampoo bottles, a brush,” Charlie lists. He reaches up and moves a couple of them to the side, then puts his flashlight down and taps them all with the opposite hand as quickly as possible. “Another bottle of – oh, I think this one’s air freshener. A plastic basket. And uh…” He shines the light on the floor, searching. “Some cobwebs.”

“Awesome.” Elijah coughs around the word and takes a few seconds to gather himself. “I think the hairbrush and makeup are maybe something.”

“What? Should I hold onto them?” Charlie asks. 

“Hmm. Just keep an eye out,” Elijah warns. “The, um. The spirits are most connected to stuff like that, so they can move them around more easily. Those are the kinds of things they want to throw if they get mad.”

While Charlie slowly slides the closet door shut, he says, “My Great Uncle Marvin would never do that to me. We were really close.”

Elijah laughs and says, “Oh my god, Charlie.”

Charlie’s about done with the bedroom, given how empty and still it feels, in addition to his penchant for not getting hit in the skull with a flying hairbrush. “It’s – I think it’s definitely not Marvin’s DNA up there,” he says. “Does that make a difference?”

“Probably a little,” Elijah says. “But it’s relative DNA, right? So that might be almost as powerful. I don’t know for sure, sorry.”

“You know better than I do.” Charlie shrugs. “Where to next?”

Elijah pushes himself off of the wall and clears his throat. “Let’s go to the kitchen,” he says. He stumbles a little as he straightens out. “Lead the way.”

“You’re lucky I’m here,” Charlie says as he steps into the hall and toward the peeling linoleum in the kitchen. 

“I’d get lost otherwise,” Elijah agrees. He loses his voice on the last word and it makes him clear his throat again. And again.

“The dust getting to you?” Charlie asks. 

“Um...” It’s like just saying it triggers another round of coughing, which doesn’t last too long or sound too serious, but what does Charlie know? “Yeah, probably.”

“You’re saying ‘probably’ a lot.”

“Oh yeah. Love that word. It’s good for when I don’t have a concrete answer, which is most of the time.”

“That’s okay,” Charlie says. “Neither do I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god this part was originally like five thousand words long and i had to cut it in half.


	9. the bathroom

The kitchen in this house is considerably small. Charlie remembers that there wasn’t room for a table that could seat more than two people, so the family always had to eat in the dining room instead, and Allison’s mother was always complaining about a lack of counter space. It seems weirdly smaller now without any furniture in it, no pots and pans hanging from the hooks on the wall or reminders stuck to the fridge. Charlie feels weird here, standing in a familiar room that has been stripped of its familiarity.

Elijah shudders next to him.

“ _Jesus_ , did you feel – oh, hi.” Elijah pauses when Charlie turns to face him, apparently a bit too abruptly. Elijah laughs a little. “Did you feel that, just now?”

“Feel what?”

“The – I don’t know, it was like…” Elijah does this thing with his hand, shaking it back and forth and wiggling his fingers. “Like the whole room was electric for a second. But now I think it was just me.”

“Did it hurt?” Charlie asks.

“Okay, it was just me,” Elijah confirms. “No, it was just, like, you know…?” He does a terrible job of mimicking a chill, moving his shoulders up and down erratically while his upper body sways.

Charlie smiles. “I know what you mean, but you aren’t very good at charades.”

“I think I’m awesome at charades,” Elijah says, “because you – _ow!_ – you…”

“What?”

“Because you were–”

“No, what just happened?” Charlie interrupts, speaking quickly. The way Elijah had just winced and jolted looked like he was being poked with something sharp.

“Nothing, it’s – _ow!_ Jesus – it’s, uh. That just means Marv’s pissed off. Doesn’t want us in here.”

Charlie gapes. “Are you okay?!”

Elijah gives him this really hollow, concerned smile. “Yeah. This happened wh– _ow!_ Oh my god, _cut it out!_ This ha-appened when I was at Allison’s too.”

“Is he going to start, like, throwing things?!”

Elijah smiles for real this time. “I thought your dear uncle Marvin would never–”

“Well, it looks like he’s doing _something!_ ” Charlie says, panicking a little. “Is it on purpose?”

“I think I’m ju-ust – _ow!_ – just feeling the effects of whatever he’s trying to say. It’s not like he’s sending pain signals to my psychic, uh, ghost sensors – _ah!_ Jesus! Seriously! I’m talking!”

“Can he hear you?” Charlie asks.

“Oh, he can hear me,” Elijah says. This is the most agitated Charlie has seen him. Not like that’s saying a lot, because they’ve barely known each other a day, but to Charlie it still feels like a milestone. “He’s trying to push us into another room.”

“What?”

“Another room,” Elijah repeats, sticking out his thumb and pointing it back toward the living room. “The one with the magazines?”

“Oh! Okay. Yeah. Yeah, sure, let’s just…” Charlie turns on his heels and makes a move to guide Elijah through the kitchen doorway. “Sorry. Is it okay if I…?”

“Yeah, that–that helps,” Elijah affirms as Charlie presses his hand on the small of Elijah’s back. He can feel Elijah still shaking, and after Elijah stumbles while walking through the doorway, Charlie extends his arm and wraps it around Elijah’s shoulders like he’s trying to squeeze the trembling right out of him.

“You good?” Charlie asks when they reach the middle of the room.

“He’s gone,” Elijah answers, his words sounding like a revelation as Charlie slowly lifts his arm away, breaking the contact and wishing he could do the same thing with the opposite arm next. “Like, he put us here and then he left. What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Is that not normal?”

“It’s not _helpful_ ,” Elijah complains. “Oh wait. Silver lining.”

Charlie watches Elijah pull a little keychain out of his pocket – it’s too dark for Charlie to see what shape it’s in –  and press a button. He pushes up the terry cloth sleeve of his shirt and extends his left arm toward Charlie, shining the light on his wrist.

“Look,” he says.

And there it is! The three dots, just like Allison had described. One of them’s a little lighter than the others, but it’s also bigger, and the irrational part of his brain calls that a huge dissonance and he has a feeling it’s going to make him crazy if he looks at it for very long.

“I have a lot of questions,” he says.

“Okay. I’ll answer one right now,” Elijah agrees, dropping his wrist and pushing his sleeve back down.

Charlie thinks for a second. “Has it always been three?” he asks.

“Yep,” Elijah says.

“That’s it?”

“Yep. Can’t believe that was your question.”

“It was a good question!”

“Yep.”

“It was!” Charlie insists.

“Yeah, actually, it wasn’t bad, sorry,” Elijah says. “I just wanted to give you a hard time. And I didn’t have anything else to say about it.”

“It looks cool, though,” Charlie says. “I’ve always liked tattoos. Do you think a regular one would come and go just like that one does?”

“I said one tattoo question only.”

“That’s a hypothetical! It doesn’t count.”

“Hmm. Okay.” Elijah starts to leaf through a magazine again, with his flashlight out this time. “I bet it’d stay on. But I don’t have any other tattoos or anything so I can’t promise anything. That would kind of suck, though, right?”

“Yeah, all that pain and money and you can’t even see it all the time? Bogus,” Charlie agrees.

“Dude, did Allison’s mom, uh-–?”

“Aunt Tanya.”

“Tanya. Did she rip out a lot of pages of magazines? All of these have ads missing–”

“Oh, um–”

“–Like, do you know why?”

“I think she used to–”

“ _Heh’hh’ESSHuh!_ S-sorry keep– _Huh’ISZCH’UE!_ Oh my _god_ , can I just _exist_ in my body for like, five minutes?!”

“Bless you,” Charlie says.

“ _Thank_ you. Je-sus. God. Sorry! I’m just, like, annoyed, sorry to freak out.”

“You call that freaking out?”

“Yeah,” Elijah says, sobering up quickly. “But I guess if having a cold and a couple of head-shocks is the worst of my problems, I’m doing okay.”

“I dunno,” Charlie says. “I think most people would have some complaints if they were getting spasmodic headaches from ghosts. Just a hunch.”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

“Seriously, you can freak out if you want to.”

“I don’t really want to. It doesn’t feel great,” Elijah confesses. “I’m so sorry, dude, what were you saying before? About the–”

“Oh, the magazine– Sorry–”

“It’s okay–!”

“Yeah, the magazines. It’s probably those little perfume samples? She used to tear them out and never use them, she’d just hoard them, like, obsessively.” Charlie’s parents used to love talking about Aunt Tanya’s _rules_ and _rituals_ and _fetishes_. They used to worry that he’d end up like Aunt Tanya one day, neurotic and obsessive and freaky, and he’s surprised now that talking about the perfumes isn’t much of a sore spot for him like it used to be.

“Oh,” Elijah says. “Was she sick?”

“She–”

“Sorry! You don’t have to answer that.”

“No, it’s cool. She definitely had something going on. Or, has, I guess. She’s still alive. It’s sort of like what I have,” Charlie says. “Guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the Aunt Tanya.”

“You’re not an apple,” Elijah says. “Sorry. I don’t know why I said that. That sucks though, like, actually.”

“It’s okay,” Charlie says. “A lot of that side of the family is sort of crazy. Like, it’s fine.”

Elijah seems to follow his lead, which is something Charlie has noticed he’s pretty good at. “I think I might know what’s going on. About the perfumes, I mean.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Can we go to the bedroom?”

“Oh. Yeah, sure.”

“There’s something in there,” Elijah continues. “At Allison’s this morning, Marv said so, and I felt something earlier.”

“Wh-!” Charlie sputters. “Why did we leave to go to the kitchen, then?” Charlie asks.

Elijah shrugs. “You seemed like you were over it.”

“Yeah, but what do I know?”

“Good point,” Elijah says. “I was also curious about the kitchen and I’m definitely allergic to something there, so I wanted a break anyway.”

“How can you tell you’re allergic if you’re sneezing a lot anyway?” Charlie asks.

“Hmm. It's like... uh. Do you get allergies, Charlie?”

Elijah looks so sweet and inquisitive that it makes Charlie want to start fidgeting. He says, “No, not that I know of.”

“It’s like a different feeling,” Elijah explains. “It’s more persistent and itchy. With this cold it’s just been like a constant background buzzing. But I have to stop talking about it now or it’s going to set me off again.”

Charlie takes the hint and changes the subject. “So what do you think the perfume samples have to do with…?”

“This sounds really lame and tropey, but there’s some sort of a connection,” Elijah says. He steps into the bedroom, inhales, coughs, shakes his head, coughs again, and then resumes his previous position at the wall by the window. “God, yeah, there’s something here.”

Charlie doesn’t know if he means ‘something’ as in something haunted, or ‘something’ as in something he’s allergic to. Unless he _is_ allergic to something haunted. Charlie never considered that, and doesn’t know exactly how it would work, but he doesn’t rule it out. He’s still new to all of this. Obviously. “What kind of connection?”

“Ol’ Marv was knocking over a bunch of perfumes at Allison’s,” Elijah says. “And she said she could smell Lillian’s perfume sometimes, so I thought maybe that’s something. It could definitely be nothing though.”

As he shines his flashlight in the closet again, Charlie asks, “How come you shorten Marvin’s name but not Aunt Lily’s?”

Elijah grins. He manages to look cheeky and sheepish at the same time. “I don’t respect him as much,” he says.

Charlie laughs. “Won’t he hear you? Can you say that?”

Elijah shrugs, his smile a little crooked and his eyebrow quirked, cocky and trying not to laugh. Charlie feels a pang of fondness that he doesn’t know what to do with.

“Do you remember where those samples are?” Elijah asks.

“Working on it,” Charlie says, his head in the closet as he rummages through a tiny plastic shower basket. He touches some little pens that he thinks might be eyeliner. “Do you need me to hurry up?”

“No, take your time,” Elijah says. “I’m trying not to sneeze because we’re doing something important, but I can wait.”

“Oh my god,” Charlie says. “What? You can sneeze. You’ve been sneezing all night. Why is it different right now?”

“Different dynamic,” Elijah says. “Now we’re like, a real team. We have a concrete goal in mind. Things to do. A task. A quest.”

Fondly, Charlie laughs. “Corrine said you were weird.”

“Corrine was ri.. ri _ght_ – _hehtGYSHh’uh!_ Okay. _HuhEHGZSH’uh!_ You can’t distract me by talking about Corrine.”

“Why not? Bless you.” Charlie pushes the basket aside; it’d been a bust.

“Thanks. Corrine, um.” Elijah pauses and coughs again. “Sorry. Corrine’s awesome and she’s always helping me out, and when someone mentions Corrine it makes me relax a little and I let my guard down.” He clears his throat. “Nothing?”

“Nope. No dice,” Charlie says, referring to the closet. “I’m gonna try the master bathroom.”

“Good idea. I’ll meet you there,” Elijah says, then takes a few steps forward until he’s standing in there, right next to the tub. “Oh _wow_ ,” he says. “I wonder how much mold is in here. Oh wow. There’s gotta be so much.”

Charlie joins him just a second later, stepping in and feeling his body go rigid as he tries to avoid letting any of the appliances touch his clothes. He knows he’s got to wash them right away, but he can’t shake the feeling that the grime is going to seep through the fabric and get absorbed by his skin and into his bloodstream.

“Are you allergic?” he asks.

“Oh yeah.”

“Are you _okay?_ ”

“Oh yeah.”

“Oh my god, Elijah, for real.”

Elijah coughs twice into his arm and clears his throat. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m not going to die or anything.”

Charlie starts opening the medicine cabinet above the sink. “Do you get it in, like, your…” He almost says _in your asthma_ and stops himself at the last second, incredibly grateful for his filter because that would have sounded like he knew less about asthma than he actually does (which still isn’t very much). “In your… lungs…?”

“Oh no,” Elijah says. “Dude, Corrine shouldn’t have told you that asthma thing, I think it really freaked you out.” The medicine cabinet pops open, and Charlie doesn’t see anything on the shelves except for a paper cup with some Q-tips sticking out of it. “I’ll, um, ease your mind, okay? The last time I had trouble with asthma was when I was, like, sixteen. I’m totally fine right now. But it’s very sweet of you to keep checking on me.”

Charlie freezes in the middle of his search when Elijah uses the word “sweet”, then he realizes he’s stopped moving and goes right back to rummaging through the drawer below the sink. He doesn’t have to worry about thinking of a quick way to respond because he finds what he was looking for.

“Eureka,” he says, pulling out the familiar, disgusting, cloudy ziploc bag full of glossy, scented magazine shreds. God. Something about ziploc bags…

“You found it?” Elijah asks.

“Almost positive,” Charlie says. “I’m gonna open it, so like, turn your head away, probably.”

“No, I’m good. I can’t smell anything anyway.”

“Hmm. Then you open it.”

“No,” Elijah repeats. “I’m good.”

Charlie considers this to be awesome exposure therapy, pulling at the seams of the bag with his nails and experimentally bringing a thick piece of paper up to his face. “Oh yeah,” he says. “This is definitely it.”

“Cool,” Elijah says.

“Is this room haunted right now?” Charlie asks.

“Lillian’s here,” Elijah answers. “But she doesn’t really seem interested. I don’t know why. I thought she would be.”

“No Marv?”

Elijah laughs. “Nah. No Uncle Marvin.” He turns around and slowly steps out of the bathroom, then out of the bedroom and into the hall. Charlie follows him with the abhorrent bag in his hands. “Sorry, I just had to getoutofthere,” he says, rushing the last few words so he can cough. He’s sounding worse. “I’m good. I’m fine,” he promises, then coughs some more. “I just didn’t want to start coughing in an enclosed space with you right next to me.”

Charlie pats him on the back and guides him out to the open space in the abandoned living room. “You have to swear you’re okay or Corrine will kill me.”

“I swear! Look, I’m not coughing anymore. I’m awesome. Back in tip-top shape like before,” Elijah says. He leans into Charlie, just briefly, then moves away and resumes his slouch.

“Okay, then in your healthy opinion,” Charlie says, “what should we do with this?” He holds up the bag. “Like, should we bury it? Burn it?”

“Hm. Yeah,” Elijah says. “We can. I think we’re supposed to get rid of it.”

“That feels… really anticlimactic.”

“Why? What were you expecting?”

“I dunno,” Charlie says. “Something flying through the air. Lights flickering. Maybe you’d start levitating.”

“I promise I’ll brush up on my telepathy _just_ for you, Charlie.”

“Oh my god. Can you actually…?”

“I’m gonna text David,” Elijah says. “I bet he’ll let us have a bonfire at his house.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one of my fav thingzzzz about elijah is that he almost always sneezes 2-3 times, and he knows it, but he still tries to talk between them anyway


	10. the backyard

“So is this the routine now?” Corrine asks, hauling a lawn chair up to the fire pit of David’s backyard. The house is pretty big, especially to belong to somebody David’s age, but Elijah told Charlie in the car that David had inherited it as the sole grandchild when his grandparents kicked the bucket. His parents lived somewhere in the South full time. “You guys crawl around a dusty, abandoned house all night and then hit us up to entertain you when you’re done?”

“You and I crawl around dusty abandoned houses all the time,” Elijah says back.

“Yeah, but we get paid for that,” Corrine says.

“You love hanging out with us anyway,” Elijah tries next.

“God, yes I do,” Corrine agrees sincerely, settling down on the chair next to him. Elijah is lounged on a rocking wicker bench, wrapped in a blanket that Corrine had pulled from her car and wrapped around him almost as soon as he’d said hello. She swings her leg out and hooks her foot around his ankle. “You doing okay? Warm enough?”

“I think the only way I’ll ever be warm enough is if I jump into the fire,” Elijah says. Corrine shifts like she’s about to get up and start piling clothes on him. “Wait. Wait-wait-wait, it’s okay. I just have chills from-–”

“From running around in the cold without a jacket like an idiot,” Corrine finishes for him. “Charlie! Why’d you let him do that?”

Charlie freezes for a second when he hears his name, then softens because he realizes she’s joking. She’s hazing him. “I just wanted to cause trouble,” he says.

“Yeah, Charlie’s a menace,” Elijah says, grinning. The glow of the fire has his cheeks flushing pink and it’s making him look kind of beautiful, which Charlie tries really hard not to think about. Elijah’s bench is at the edge of the half-circle surrounding the fire pit, furthest from Corrine and next to Charlie, and he’s leaning against the armrest so he’s facing both of them completely.

“What’d Charlie do?” David asks from behind them.

“Jeez! How long have you been standing there?” Corrine asks back. 

“Oh my god, just like, a couple seconds. You relax. Here,” David says. He hands her a dark bottle that Charlie’s guessing is either beer or cider. “Anyone else want one?”

“Yes. But boil it on the fire first,” Elijah requests.

“Yeah right. You’ll take what I’ve got,” David says. He leans over and hands Elijah a bottle from the six-pack he’s carrying. “Charlie?”

“No, I’m okay,” Charlie says. “Oh! Here, you go ahead and sit down, I think this was your chair before…”

“Oh, no, it’s okay, I can just… Oh, sure…” David scrambles a little like he’s ready to have some sort of politeness battle with Charlie (you-sit-down-no- _ you _ -sit-down-no-I-insist), but Charlie’s already standing and stepping off to the side, leaving room on the ground for the half-empty six-pack.

Charlie hears some liquid sloshing, and looks over to see Elijah pull the bottle from his lips. “Yeah, Charlie,” he says after swallowing the drink with a wince. “Come over here instead. You’re officially invited to my sick bench.”

David sits down on his own chair and laughs. “When you put it like that…”

“No, it’s totally cool,” Elijah says as he pulls himself together so there’s room for Charlie on the bench. “I have some info.” He takes a drink as Charlie sits down next to him. “Charlie and I slept in the same bed last ni–”

“What!” Corrine doesn’t even give him a chance to finish. “You didn’t tell me that! What?”

“Yeah.” Elijah sits up some more and takes another drink. Charlie can smell the alcohol. It’s definitely cider. “It wasn’t weird, though. It was super normal.”

“Was it weird, Charlie?” Corrine asks.

“You don’t trust my assessment?” 

“No.”

“It wasn’t weird!” Charlie promises. It’s sort of not true, but he has a feeling that his thoughts falling asleep would have been the same whether Elijah had been lying down next to him or not.

“Did Elijah end up chasing you to the edge of the bed?” Corrine asks.

Charlie doesn’t answer, not exactly. “He… gets cold?” he says, almost defensively, then feels weird for describing Elijah to the person who very likely knows him the best. 

“Yeah,  _ Corrine _ ,” Elijah says, shifting again so that he’s relaxed against the back of the bench, close enough to Charlie for their outer thighs to touch. “And I fessed up to him right away. Charlie didn’t mind. Right?”

“Yeah, I didn’t mind.” Charlie relaxes with the contact and stretches his arm across the bench, his hand curled and fingertips brushing the opposite side of the backrest.

“Come to think of it,” Corrine says, “I’m not really surprised about that. I was, but I don’t know…”

“Why?” Elijah asks.

“I was getting there! I think you’re both some of the most...  _ touchy-feely _ people I know,” Corrine says. “So it’s actually not  _ that weird _ that you both wanted to share a bed.”

“I am?” is all Elijah has to say to that.

David crosses his legs and grins, patting Charlie on the shoulder kind of aggressively. “Yes!” he says. “You guys are practically cuddling right now.”

“Aw, they are!” Corrine says. “Charlie, you’ve almost got your arm around him.”

Charlie’s body reacts before his brain does, his arm sliding over the backrest of the bench and falling across Elijah’s shoulders, his hand dangling just in front of Elijah’s chest. “Yeah, almost,” he says.

“Oh. Good!” Elijah tugs on Charlie’s hand a little. “You’re so warm. I was waiting for you to share.”

“Your  _ hands _ are cold,” Charlie complains.

“Aren’t they?” David agrees. He takes a long drink from his bottle of whatever-cider (probably apple, but Charlie can’t get pears out of his mind from this morning). “It’s great in the summer. Sometimes we take turns having him touch our cheeks.”

“I keep ice packs in my pockets,” Elijah says. “Even in the winter. That way I can keep chilling my hands throughout the day. Anything for my buddies.” He leans toward Charlie a little so his shoulder is touching Charlie’s chest, poking him sharply. 

“ _ Ah! _ ” Charlie gasps, involuntarily, and Elijah quickly readjusts.

“Oh my god.” Elijah tenses up. “I am  _ so _ sorry-– my bones-–”

“No, no, it’s okay, seriously,” Charlie says. He drops his arm and gently grips Elijah’s shoulder himself, guiding him forward so that he’s resting against Charlie’s chest. “You’re good.”

“I’m so good,” Elijah says. “Sorry. Thanks.”

Charlie wishes he could fall asleep like this, with the glow of the fire on his face and Elijah’s lanky, relaxed frame pressed against his own. It’s weird to think that he was only just getting Elijah’s number 48 hours ago, texting him about what he’d thought would be a one-off night scurrying around in an old basement, maybe a cheap thrill but nothing beyond that. Instead, he got a crush on his new friend whom Charlie felt like he’d known for years, a yearning to sit still and uncomfortable for as long as he can because being with Elijah feels like something he’ll never be able to get enough of.

So when Elijah fall asleep on him an hour later and the conversation dwindles down along with the fire, Charlie volunteers to take him home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes! oh my god, it's done! i wrote this whole thing in about 4 days and now i'm off to smaller and better things (and so excited to be able to post the things on my write on the same days that i write them). 
> 
> if you've stuck with this entire thing thing huge gigantic thank you and as always come into my inbox to yell about my OCs with me... i am still getting a feel for them too but i love them so much already


End file.
